


We Have A Dance

by telperion_15



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dance, Burlesque, Challenge Response, Dancing, First Time, Friendship, Gay Club, Jealousy, Life Imitating Art, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fic, Tango
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We have a dance, in the brothels of Buenos Aires.  It tells the story of a prostitute, and a man who falls in love with him." (In which James is <i>not</i> a prostitute, it's <i>not</i> set in Buenos Aires, but there is dancing, and falling in love.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Spring Fest, prompt #46 'Moulin Rouge AU! Burlesque stage show. James as Roxanne, Michael as his jealous lover. Goodfriends but then Michael gets feelings when they do a run through of the dance with the others there touching James. Happy endings with possessive sex after the end of the show.' (Full prompt [here](http://mcfassy.livejournal.com/269409.html?thread=4475489#t4475489)). It's possible that I may have inadvertently mangled theodd aspect of the prompt as I've gone along, not least the burlesque element of it, which is something I know nothing about, so I've kind of just winged it a bit! (Hmmmmmm, maybe not the best prompt to pick, upon reflection! *g*). But I hope the OP likes it anyway! Also, certain elements are obviously heavily influencedby _Moulin Rouge_ (and can I just say some of the extra features on that DVD have been a godsend, research-wise - I must have watched the relevant unedited dance sequence dozens of times, trying to figure things out!). But anyway, on with the show!

“Right, you lot, listen up!” Matthew perched himself on the edge of the stage and fixed everyone with a glare that suggested that they’d better do as he asked, or find themselves out of a job.

Obediently, Michael dropped into a chair, crossed his arms over his chest and looked towards Matthew attentively. Around him, everybody else was doing the same.

“I’ve decided we need a new act for Saturday nights,” Matthew began, without preamble. “It’s our busiest night, and we need something fresh. Something that our customers haven’t seen every week for the past six months. Something a bit _different_.”

Suddenly it was obvious that everyone was _really_ paying attention, instead of just pretending to.

“To that end, Edi and I have been talking, and we’ve settled on something based on ‘El Tango de Roxanne’.”

A ripple of interest went round the assembled dancers, as they tried to work out exactly where Matthew was going with this.

“I’m sure you all know how it goes. A prostitute who sells herself to many men, and a lover driven mad by jealousy. It’s a little more serious than the acts we normally perform, but that’s why it’s different. I want sexy, I want intense, I want _dangerous_.”

“But it’s going to be cross, right?” a voice that Michael recognised as Lucas’ called out. “I mean you said ‘ _her_ self’.”

“No,” said Matthew unexpectedly. “We’re playing this one absolutely straight. The original Roxanne is a woman, yes, but ours is going to be male. This isn’t going to be a fishnets and feathers act, gentlemen. I told you it was going to be different, and that’s exactly what it will be.”

He paused to consult briefly with Edi, and a murmur of chatter broke out across the room. Michael frowned to himself slightly as he thought it through. Their normal crowd were definitely used to a certain kind of act, ones that normally contained the aforementioned feathers and fishnets. It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he’d imagined himself ending up doing when he’d started his dance training, but it paid the rent, and much to his surprise, he actually kind of enjoyed it all. At least his job was fun, if a little over the top at times.

But he wasn’t sure how their customers were going to react to something that wasn’t played for laughs. That wasn’t – not to put to fine a point on it – _camp_. He trusted Matthew – they all did – but this was certainly a gamble.

“Now, on to the subject of casting…” Matthew’s voice rose above the escalating hubbub of voices, and everyone quietened down instantly, eager to find out who was going to be involved in this venture.

“This isn’t going to be an act with a cast of thousands,” Matthew continued. “We’ll need a few extra bodies for the very end of the act, but we can’t achieve intense with hoards of people prancing around on the stage the whole time. So I’m sorry, but a lot of you are going to be disappointed.”

Michael wasn’t surprised – he’d already suspected as much.

“So firstly, our ‘Roxanne’ will have main three customers, and they are Lucas, Álex and Edi.”

Lucas whooped loudly, and Álex, who Michael could see on the other side of the room, smiled quietly, obviously pleased.

“Edi will also be handling the choreography of the piece. It’s his first big act, so I hope you’ll all support him and listen to what he has to say.”

Edi was smiling a small smile of his own, Michael noticed, obviously excited by the opportunity, albeit a little worried by the pressure.

“As for the two main roles, the jealous lover will be played by…” Matthew paused, obviously for effect, and Michael rolled his eyes. Their boss never could resist his flair for the dramatic.

“Michael,” Matthew announced, and Michael suddenly found most of the eyes in the place directed at him.

There was laughter behind him, and something hit the back of his head lightly. He turned to glare at a grinning Jason, who looked completely unrepentant.

“Think you can handle it, Fassbender?” Jason said. “Any experience in that area to draw on?”

“Fuck off, Jason,” Michael retorted, mostly good-naturedly.

“Yes, _thank you_ , Mr Flemyng,” Matthew interjected. “I’m sure Michael will do an admirable job. But on the subject of handling things, do you think you can cope with the singing for this one?”

“No problem,” Jason replied breezily.

“Good. Caleb will be joining you – both of you see me later for the material.”

“Right you are, boss.” Jason grinned again, and then winked at Michael, who sighed and pointedly turned back to face the stage.

“So who’s playing Roxanne, then?” someone called out.

Michael was wondering the same thing. Who _was_ he going to be required to play at being jealous over? He glanced around surreptitiously, trying to work out who would best fit the role. And who he could stand to dance so closely with.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Matthew replied dryly. “I’ve thought hard about this one, and I’ve decided that the Roxanne role will be danced by…James.”

That shut everybody up.

James had only been working at the club for a few weeks, and normally newbies didn’t even get a sniff at the prominent roles in acts until they’d been around for at _least_ six months.

Michael craned his neck, looking around until he spotted James, sitting off to one side of the stage, slightly apart from everyone else.

He’d only spoken to the guy a handful of times, mostly ‘hellos’ and odd bits of chitchat if they’d happened to pass each other in the dressing room or the corridors, and he barely knew anything about James – what he was like, what he’d done before coming to work at the club, and above all, why the hell Matthew had chosen him for such a plum role so quickly.

James, of course, was fully aware of the scrutiny he was now being subjected to. Looking faintly embarrassed, he gave everyone a little half-smile and shrug, as if to say _no, I have no idea either_.

Predictably, Matthew didn’t explain his decision. He never did, but then, no one had ever really questioned him before. He was a fair director – everyone got their chances and their turn to shine in the acts, their talents put to the best possible uses.

Michael decided that he wouldn’t question him this time either. He’d wait and see what James was like first. Both as a dancer and a person.

He had a feeling this act was going to turn out to be _very_ interesting.

*~*~*~*~*

Rubbing his eyes, Michael mentally cursed again the fact that he was up so early. And on a fucking Sunday too – they’d all been working last night, and the club didn’t close until one in the morning, but Matthew was determined that the chosen few were going to get started on rehearsing the new act as soon as possible.

“I know how you feel.”

Michael almost jumped out of his skin. He’d thought the studio would be empty, convinced that he was the first to arrive – the rest of the club was as silent as the grave, no one else crazy enough to be here on a Sunday morning when they didn’t have to be.

“Sorry.” James smiled the same little smile Michael had noticed when he’d got the part in the new act, as if he wasn’t quite sure how Michael would react to his presence.

Michael smiled back (although he suspected it might have come out as more of a tired grimace). “Don’t worry about it. You just startled me, that’s all. How long have you been here?”

“Only a few minutes. One of the cleaners let me in. Here, you want some?”

James held out a paper cup that even from a distance Michael could tell contained coffee. He felt every atom of his being yearn towards it.

“You sure? I wouldn’t want to deprive you. You look like you need it as much as I do.”

“No, go ahead. It’s my third of the day anyway, which isn’t good for me even when I’m forced to be up at ungodly hours of the morning.”

Michael huffed out a laugh and then, before James could change his mind, crossed the room and took the cup, practically inhaling the bitter black coffee.

James looked amused. “Not _your_ third of the day, then?”

“Second,” Michael muttered around the dregs. And the first had been a cup of watery instant from his kitchen cupboard – it barely counted. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” James took the cup back, set it on the floor, and then as he straightened up, held out a hand. “James McAvoy.”

Michael stared at the offered hand for a moment, and then said, “We have met, you know. You _do_ work here.”

James looked down at his hand too, and chuckled ruefully. “Sorry,” he said again. “I guess my mother brought me up to always be polite and introduce myself to new acquaintances. Especially ones I’m going to be getting rather up close and personal with.”

Up close and personal. Michael supposed that was true enough. “Makes a handshake a little redundant though, don’t you think?” he said. “Considering how close we’re probably going to have to get.”

Right on cue, the door banged open and Edi breezed into the studio, carrying a portable CD player and a cup of coffee of his own. “Morning, boys,” he greeted them, looking far more awake than either Michael or James. “Ready to get started?”

“That depends on whether _you’re_ ready to start teaching two sleep-deprived zombies,” Michael told him grumpily, and heard James laugh.

“Oh, come on, you heard Matthew yesterday. We’ve only got two weeks until he wants the new act to start, so that means every second counts. And you know you’re both excused from on-stage duties for that period, so quit your moaning.”

Michael rapidly thought up several creative uses for the both the CD player and the coffee cup in Edi’s hand that were probably not what either of them were originally designed for, but Edi just laughed at his glare.

“Right, first thing’s first – music.” Edi put the CD player on the floor, plugged it in, and then fished a CD out of his bag and inserted into the player. Together they listened to the instantly recognisable tango track, Michael already visualising how their dancing might fit to the music.

“We’ll be re-orchestrating the piece for the actual act,” Edi said, when the final notes had died away. “Making it slightly quieter, more sensual and more sinister, with more emphasis on the violins. Quite apart from anything else, this version is just too loud and brash for a club act – it’ll overwhelm everything. But it’ll do to practice with – we won’t be changing anything about the arrangement or the musical phrasing.”

“It sounds good,” James said. He darted a sideways look at Michael. “It’s going to be a good act.”

“That’s the idea,” Edi replied. “Now, the two of you get warmed up, and then I’ll start outlining the choreography.”

Michael moved to comply, James following him to where they’d both dumped their bags. They both stripped off their jackets and sweaters, and exchanged their street shoes for dancing ones, before proceeding into a series of stretches and movements designed to loosen the muscles.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I was chosen for this?” James murmured after a few quiet moments.

Michael hesitated, and then replied truthfully, “Some people are.” _He_ wasn’t, actually, not any more. Last night he’d made a point of watching James on stage – as the new boy he was currently only employed as a backing dancer in one of the acts, but Michael had been able to see immediately why Matthew had hired him. James was good. _More_ than good – he that indefinable ‘something’ that constantly drew the eye, even when he wasn’t centre-stage. It went a long way towards explaining why Matthew had given him this break so quickly.

“They’re not the only ones who were surprised,” James said, somewhat self-deprecatingly.

“You shouldn’t be,” Michael said. “Matthew knows what he’s doing.”

“I hope so.”

“What did you do before you came here, anyway?” Michael enquired. “That is, if you don’t mind me asking.”

James waved an accepting hand. “Actually, I was a member of a ballet company, if you can believe that,” he said.

“Actually, I can.” Michael directed a pointed look at the way James was stretching himself, more flexible than Michael would ever be.

James laughed, flushing slightly. “Yep, I bend every which way, me.”

“So what made you decide to leave? Or wasn’t it your choice?”

“Oh no, I chose to go. I just woke up one day and realised the whole thing was bullshit. I used to take so much joy in my dancing, but ballet sucked all that out of me. It was so…regimented. Strict schedule, strict diet, strict _life_. And all for not much reward. Only a few members of the company ever rose to the dizzying heights of the lead roles.”

“And you didn’t.”

“I did, actually. But that just made everything stricter. I had to get out before it made me hate dancing forever.”

“This seems like a bit of a drastic change, though.”

James shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do for a while. Then I saw the advert for this place – my training didn’t just include classical ballet, so I knew I had the right skills – and I just thought, what the hell. Let’s have some fun for a change.”

“If you’re looking for fun, I think you’ve come to the wrong place,” Michael commented, as Edi clapped his hands sharply and gestured them over. “Edi can be a slave driver in the training room sometimes.”

“I heard that, you know,” Edi said. Then he looked at James. “He’s right though – I do expect you to work hard on this – we take things seriously here, even though it may not always look like it.”

“Don’t worry, I promise to put in the required effort,” James replied. “I’m not afraid of hard work – I just prefer it when the only reward for it isn’t _more_ hard work.”

“Well, in that case, I think you’re going to fit in just fine,” said Edi, grinning. “Now, before I start showing you any steps, a quick run through of the ‘story’ of the dance.”

“I’m a prostitute and he’s my jealous lover,” James said, giving Michael a nudge. Michael nudged him back, unable to resist a smile.

“Correct, but there’s a little more to it than that,” Edi said, giving them a look that contained a faint hint of long-suffering. “Now, I don’t know if either of you were timing the track earlier, but it clocks in at just shy of six minutes. The good news – Michael, you won’t be dancing the whole six minutes. The bad news – James…”

“Let me guess, I _will_.”

“Got it in one. The first section will be both of you, dancing a sort of ‘summary’ of the relationship, if you will, from desire, through suspicion to jealous anger, following the track vocal. I’m hoping we can backlight this part, so you’ll be nothing more than silhouettes, and towards the end of it Lucas and the other ‘customers’ will emerge on to the stage as shadowy figures in the background, waiting for their prostitute. Then the lights will come up as you leave, Michael, and the next section will be James dancing with other three, each in turn, while you lurk on the sidelines.”

“I think I can manage that,” Michael said wryly. “I’m a champion lurker.”

James sniggered and Edi tutted at both of them.

“I’m sure we’re all very glad to know that, but you’ll pardon me if I’m more concerned with your _dance_ skills. Anyway, the next transition will be your re-entrance, Michael, to take James away from his customers. This is the main sequence between the two of you, taking us through the middle of the dance. Do you remember that very quiet phrase in the middle of the track? That’ll be your chance to show the audience that you really are in love. I want you to break their hearts a little.”

Michael glanced at James and wondered whether he was going to be able to convincingly fake being in love with someone he barely knew. He sighed quietly. He could only give it his best shot, he supposed.

“But really, the overwhelming theme of this section is possession and the lover’s growing jealousy. This will be particularly evident after the quieter section, and the choreography will reflect this. Eventually, however, the prostitute has no choice but to go back to his customers, even though it causes them both great anguish. Michael you’ll once again be watching from the shadows, and James, this section should look kind of brutal, sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I can handle it.”

“The prostitute is passed roughly from hand to hand, more and more customers appearing to take him. Figuratively speaking, of course.” Edi winked and Michael rolled his eyes.

“And then, right at the climax, Michael, you appear from the crowd, and kill the prostitute, whereupon he falls to the ground at your feet dead, with the two of you spotlighted. As the lyrics of the song indicate, jealousy has driven the lover mad, and he alone can’t have the prostitute, then no one will.”

There was a moment of silence, and then James commented, completely deadpan, “Intense.”

“It’s supposed to be,” Edi said, over Michael’s chuckle. “You heard Matthew when he was describing what he wanted from this.”

“It’s certainly going to be a challenge,” Michael mused. He turned to James. “What do you think – can we pull it off?”

James’ eyes flashed, and his lips curled into a sultry little smile. “I think we can.”

Michael blinked. Was James getting into character already? Then he felt his mouth curve into a smile of its own, and he leaned closer to James. “I’m _telling_ you we can,” he said, putting just a hint of threat, and something darker and possessive into his voice.

There was a pause as they just looked at each other, and then Edi whistled, interrupting the moment. “Well, suddenly all my worries are over,” he said. “You two have _chemistry_ , that’s for damn sure.”

Suddenly a little flustered, Michael drew back, noticing as he did so that James’ cheeks had turned slightly pink.

“Of course, all the chemistry in the world is going to mean precisely squat unless I teach you the steps,” Edi continued, an amused look in his eyes. “So what’s say we get to work?”

*~*~*~*~*

Michael leaned on the bar that ran along one wall of the studio and just focused on breathing for a moment. Nearby, James was doubled over even further, hands braced on his knees as he too took a few deep breaths.

“Still think you can handle this?” Michael panted.

James lifted one hand for long enough to flip him the finger, and then returned it to its role in propping him up.

They’d spent the morning going through the first section of the dance, and although it was only about a minute and half long, Edi had wasted no time in displaying his slave driving tendencies, showing them steps and them making them practice various bits over and over again.

The choreography drew on a range of dance styles, mainly tango – both ballroom and argentine – and flamenco, and thus it was rather physical. Not to mention the way Michael had had to manhandle James as James had put his avowed flexibility to disturbingly good use.

“Right, we’ll take a break for lunch,” Edi called from across the studio. “Forty-five minutes, and then I want you both back here to see how much you’ve already forgotten.”

“Bastard,” Michael muttered, and heard James choke out a laugh.

“Oh, and don’t eat too heavily,” was Edi’s parting shot. “I don’t want to spend the afternoon watching two elephants lumbering around the floor.”

Michael spat something even more uncomplimentary about Edi’s parentage, but the only response he got was slam of the studio door.

James chuckled again, and then straightened up with a groan. “I need to warm up better next time,” he said. “I don’t bend as well as I used to, apparently.”

“You are kidding me?” Michael said. “You were making my eyes water just watching you!”

“Should have seen me a few years ago,” replied James dismissively. Then, “Listen do you want to grab some lunch together? Or are you sick of the sight of me already?”

“Not at all,” Michael told him. In fact, he was surprised at how little awkwardness there was between him and James, considering that they’d spent most of the morning wrapped around each other in a way that Michael wouldn’t normally consider until he’d taken someone on at least four dates.

“Great. Know anywhere close? Since we’re against the clock?”

“There’s a place across the road that should be open. The owner seems to think it’s a sin to pass up the opportunity to make money. And we should be able to get something that won’t weigh us down for the rest of the day.”

“Sounds perfect. Lead on then, lover boy.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Michael fake-snarled, but couldn’t help smiling in the face of James’ cheeky grin.

*~*~*~*~*

Seated opposite James in the café across the street, plates of food in front of them that hopefully wouldn’t give Edi too many heart attacks, Michael thought back over the morning. He thought about James simply handing over his coffee to someone he’d barely been introduced to. He thought about the way he’d struggled to contain his laughter at James’ exaggeratedly attentive expression as Edi had explained to them for the fifth time how _intense_ and _sensual_ he wanted this number to be. He thought about how easy James was to talk to, and how comfortable he’d been dancing with James as Edi took them through the initial choreography.

Edi would no doubt attribute that to the chemistry he’d claimed to see between them, and Michael supposed he couldn’t deny that he and James had seemed to ‘click’ pretty much instantly. Privately, he already agreed with Edi that they had the makings of a good act here – and thus far they’d only really blocked out the first few sequences of the routine.

“So, how did you end up doing this, then?” James asked, interrupting Michael’s reverie.

For a moment he wasn’t sure what James was asking, then he recalled their conversation of earlier that morning. “I’m still not really sure,” he confessed. “When I was younger I didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life. But I did know I wanted it to be something interesting. I didn’t want to conform. I nearly drove my parents to distraction with my antics, sometimes, I think. ‘Flamboyant’ was the word my mother tended to use about me, and she didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

James eyed him sceptically. “Flamboyant isn’t a word I’d necessarily use to describe you,” he said. “Your choice of employment notwithstanding.”

“Yes, well, at that point I was eighteen and rebelling,” Michael replied wryly. “You should have seen my mother’s face the first time she saw me dressed for a night out. I think it was the eyeliner she objected to the mostly, strangely enough.”

“Did they have a problem with you being gay, then?”

“Not as such. I think they would have just preferred a more respectable son, as opposed to one who liked to wear makeup and leather trousers.”

“I bet you made quite the picture,” James said, his face taking on a dreamy look. Michael threw a piece of cucumber at him and he laughed. “So, it was destiny then, was it? You ending up dancing in a gay night club for a living?”

“I suppose so. I went to university, somehow managed to come out of it with an okay degree, but had no desire to work in some nine-to-five office job. Then I got ‘spotted’ by the owner of a dance school while I was out one night. He persuaded me to learn some proper moves, recommended me to Matthew, and here I am.”

“Here you are.” James smiled. “Lucky for me.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Okay, so James, I want you to step in close to Michael, and hook your right leg over his hip. Michael, you hold him to you with your arm round his waist, which should allow you to arch your back, James, so you’re leaning away from him with the top half of your body. Michael, I want you to bend over him and run your hand down his chest from his throat to where your bodies join. It should look like a clear mark of possession – only you should be allowed to touch him that way.”

As James followed Edi’s instructions flawlessly, Michael marvelled again at how _good_ he was at this, and how well he inhabited his role. Even in scruffy practice gear, with his hair in messy disarray, James seemed to exude the sensuality necessary to the dance as easily as breathing. Not to mention that that flexibility of his was once again coming in handy.

It was all rather mesmerising.

“Michael!”

Edi’s voice reminded him that he had a part to play in this too, and he hastened to execute his own moves, curling his spine so he could hover possessively over James’ arched form.

“Good, now Michael, you start to draw back as James moves back up again. James, at a point when you feel comfortable, I want you to snap upright, right into Michael’s space, so that you’re pressed completely together. I want it to look like you’re practically kissing.”

Again, James complied perfectly and suddenly Michael found himself staring straight into James’ startlingly blue eyes. James’ hand slid round the back of his neck, another anchor point to hold them steady, and he could feel both of their chests rising and falling against each other as they breathed deeply.

“Good! That was good! And it would have been _great_ if Michael hadn’t gone off into a daydream in the middle there.”

Michael grimaced as James chuckled slightly. Then, “Hi,” James said to him, his face still only inches away.

“Hi yourself,” Michael replied.

They continued to stare at each other for a moment until Edi clapped his hands and called out, “Again, please!”


	2. Chapter 2

Three days passed in a blur of learning steps, steps and more steps, until by the end of Tuesday Edi judged that they knew the routine sufficiently well that he could leave them to their own devices.

“I want you practice every day,” he said. “I _mean_ it. No slacking.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Michael barked, dashing off a mocking salute. Edi gave him a withering look, and turned to James.

“You’ll have to practice in the afternoons, though, as from tomorrow I’ll need James in the morning to start on the sequences with Lucas, Álex and I. Sorry, James, but I did warn you that this was going to be full on for you.”

“No problem,” James said. “I’m looking forward to it, actually. It’s not really a hardship, after all, getting my hands on so many attractive men.”

He winked at Michael, but much to Michael’s surprise, he found it hard to summon up a smile in return. Even though they’d only been dancing together for three days, he found he’d got used to being in James’ company pretty much constantly. He wondered what he was going to do with himself all morning while James practiced with the others.

“Do you need me to come along to those sessions?” he asked Edi, thinking that maybe it would be useful to get some idea of the whole picture of the dance.

Edi looked at him consideringly for a moment, and then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Not to start with, anyway. You’ll probably just be bored, and besides, we’ll have plenty of time to start stitching the whole routine together next week. Just concentrate on fixing your own bits of the dance in your head.”

“Aw, will you miss me?” James teased, unwittingly echoing Michael’s previous thoughts. “Don’t worry, darling, you know you’re the only one for me really.”

“Oh, shut up,” Michael told him, finally managing to produce that smile.

“I promise I won’t enjoy a single second of my time with those other men,” James continued, obviously unwilling to give up the game.

“You’d better not,” Michael told him, narrowing his eyes as his smile dissolved into a fake glower. “And believe me, I’ll know if you do.”

James pouted a little and batted his eyelashes, his expression exaggeratedly innocent. It should have looked ridiculous, but James somehow managed to make it work. Michael almost wanted to fall for it, even though he knew it was all pretend.

“Oh, the chemistry!” Edi exclaimed triumphantly in the background.

*~*~*~*~*

“So, how did it go yesterday afternoon with the others?” Michael asked on Saturday morning, in a quick break between run-throughs. “I think you said that you’d been having trouble with one particular section on Thursday?”

“Oh, I think we’ve sorted that now,” James replied. “It was just logistical, really – with four of us all dancing around each other we just needed to make sure we all knew where we were supposed to be at any given moment. Although you would have thought it was the end of the world, the way Edi was carrying on at one point.”

He grinned, but Michael couldn’t help noticing that the expression lacked its normal sparkle (he was choosing not to examine too closely how it was that he already knew what James’ normal sparkle looked like). James was looking tired, and no wonder, with the frankly punishing schedule Edi had had him following. Michael himself was fast heading towards exhausted, and he was only doing half days.

“Are you all right?”

James waved him away. “I’m okay. Just a little tired. Who’s idea was it to practice this morning, anyway?”

“I believe that would be yours,” Michael told him. He was already regretting going along with said idea. The only reason they’d been able to practice together this morning, instead of waiting for the afternoon, was that Lucas and Álex, not being excused from their normal Saturday evening acts until the new one started, unlike Michael and James, were otherwise occupied with sorting themselves out for later. James had therefore suggested that they get in some additional practice hours together in the morning, and Michael had agreed.

But it was rapidly becoming apparent that James was having problems concentrating on what they were supposed to be doing. He’d already made more than one silly mistake, and Michael’s toes were becoming rather more acquainted than he liked with the results of those mistakes.

“Come on, let’s practice the slide step again,” James said, and fitted himself against Michael before Michael could demur.

However, they were only halfway through the step when James stumbled. How he managed to pitch forwards when he was actually leaning back into Michael as they moved, Michael wasn’t quite sure. But what he _did_ know was that if it wasn’t for the arm he had around James’ waist, James would have ended up flat on his face.

“Right, that’s it, we’re stopping for the day,” Michael announced.

“But we’ve barely started,” James protested. “Really, I’m fine. I just tripped, that’s all.”

“Tripped? Over what? Your own feet? James, you’re exhausted, and I’m not much better. We need to take a break. A _proper_ break.”

“But what about Edi?”

“Never mind Edi. Even he won’t want you to work yourself into the ground.”

“But…”

“James. We are taking a _break_. Besides, it’s not like we’d be able to work all day anyway. We’d probably only get in a couple more hours before everyone else starts needing the studio for their own practice and warm-ups before tonight. I don’t even know why I let you talk me into this in the first place.”

“Fine,” James muttered, his sulky look somewhat ruined by his obvious tiredness. “But I wish you’d spoken up earlier – I have to catch two buses to get here, and it takes well over an hour. I wouldn’t have bothered if I’d known we weren’t going to get anything done. And now I’m basically just turning right around and going home again.”

“Sorry,” said Michael. And he was. Sorry he hadn’t been firmer with James earlier. They’d both been showing signs of tiredness before today, and he should have known that trying to squeeze in these extra hours of practice wouldn’t be a good idea.

“No, I’m sorry,” replied James, suddenly looking contrite. “It’s not your fault – it’s not fair of me to have a go at you. I am tired, you’re right about that. And I’m not really looking forward to being stuck on a bus again for the rest of the morning. I probably won’t get home until after lunch at this rate.”

“You can come back to my place for a bit, if you like.” The words were out of Michael’s mouth before he’d even considered them. “I’m sure I can dredge up something for us for lunch, and then you can head home after you’ve relaxed for a while.”

“Oh.” James looked hesitant, although also undeniably interested, and a little relieved. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. I only live about ten minutes away on my…oh.”

“What?”

“Er, have you ridden a motorbike before?”

“No. But I’m sure I can hang on tight.”

James grinned again, but although the expression was still tired, it was also more genuine this time. Michael huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure you can. Grab your stuff, and we’ll get out of here.”

They managed to avoid Edi, who Michael knew was around somewhere talking to Matthew, in making their escape from the club. There was a brief check when Michael realised he only had one helmet, but he quickly decided that James would need it more than him, and successfully managed to get James to put it on, despite James’ protests.

The promised ten minutes later, they came to a halt outside Michael’s building, and Michael wheeled the bike down the alley at the side of it before leading the way up the steps to the front door and letting James into the hall.

“I’m just here,” he said, unlocking the interior door that led into the ground floor flat. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

“It’s nice,” James said, after glancing around.

“Dump your stuff, and I’ll put the kettle on. You want a coffee?”

“Tea, if you’ve got it?”

“No problem.” Leaving James in the living room, Michael went through to the small kitchen, wondering if he still had that rather old box of teabags in the back of one of the cupboards. “Make yourself at home,” he called back.

“Thanks.”

Teabags duly located (and Michael was pleased to discover that they weren’t quite as old as he’d remembered) and kettle boiled, Michael returned to the living room to find James examining his DVDs.

“Why am I not surprised to find that you have _The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert_ in your collection?” James asked, smirking as he turned from his perusal of the shelves.

“Would you believe it was a present from my parents?” Michael said, setting the two mugs down in a hastily cleared space on the coffee table. “I think it was my mother’s way of letting me know she’d finally made her peace with my choice of career.”

James snorted with laughter, and then hastily smothered it. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. That was pretty much my reaction too. And anyway, it’s not like it’s a bad film. Although Terence Stamp in drag is enough to give me nightmares occasionally…”

“Next you’ll be telling me you’re a fan of ABBA.”

“Sadly not.”

“My illusions are all shattered,” James exclaimed dramatically, and then laughed again.

“Drink your tea,” Michael told him, and then flopped on to one end of the couch. James sat down at the other end, and then picked up his tea, making a happy noise as he sipped it.

James was disturbingly easy to talk to, Michael discovered as the day wore on. He’d already known this, of course, but up until now most of their conversations had focused on dancing, and more specifically the routine they were trying to perfect. That day, Michael realised that talking to James about other things was just as easy, as they covered topics as diverse as their favourite films, their childhoods, and their fellow dancers at the club.

“Have you noticed that Lucas has the biggest crush on Edi?” James said, as Michael took their empty plates into the kitchen. Without either of them really noticing, lunch had somehow turned into dinner as well – albeit nothing more fancy than takeaway from the local Chinese – and now, several hours later, James was still here.

He was also, Michael was sure, slightly drunk. Perhaps it hadn’t been the best idea to offer James that beer with his food, Michael reflected. Or that second one after they’d finished. He didn’t know how well James tolerated his alcohol, but even the most hardened drinker probably would have been affected if they were as tired as James was.

“Seriously? You think?” he replied, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of water running into the sink.

“It’s obvious,” James proclaimed. He snickered. “Well, obvious to everyone except Edi. And Lucas will never make the first move, despite all that bravado he puts on. He reckons Edi wouldn’t even _look_ at him.”

“How come you’ve picked this up even though you’ve only been at the club a few weeks when I haven’t noticed in years?”

“You clearly haven’t been paying attention,” James said. “Whereas I see all.”

“Uh huh,” said Michael sceptically.

“You don’t believe me, do you? Just watch Lucas the next time he’s in the same room as Edi. Then you’ll see.”

Michael rolled his eyes at the smug tone in James’ voice, although privately he vowed he would keep an eye on Lucas over the next days, to see if James was right.

He did the washing-up as quickly as he could – there wasn’t much, even with the dishes from lunch too – and then put the kettle on again, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to try and sober James up a bit with something non-alcoholic.

But he realised suddenly, as he went back into the living room offer James the suggested cup of tea, that James had been uncannily quiet for the last ten minutes, and Michael fully expected to find him back in front of his DVD collection, or the bookcase, ready to pass judgement on Michael’s taste again.

Instead, he discovered that James had fallen asleep.

Michael came to a surprised halt, and stared down at James for a moment. Then he smiled slightly to himself, and decided to leave him for a bit. Now that James was still, it was even easier to see the tiredness in his face, and Michael figured it would be no bad thing to let him have a nap. Quietly, he settled himself back on his end of the couch and grabbed a newspaper to keep himself occupied, unable to keep his eyes from straying occasionally towards his sleeping friend.

*~*~*~*~*

“No…stop…”

Michael looked up at the sound of James’ voice. It was over an hour later, and having finished the newspaper, he’d moved on to his laptop to check his emails, content to let James sleep as long as he wanted to.

“James? You all right?”

“Stop…”

James wasn’t actually awake, Michael realised then. He was talking in his sleep, apparently dreaming.

Michael hesitated for a moment. It didn’t sound like James was having the pleasantest of dreams, but neither did he seem to be in the grip of a truly horrible nightmare. Should he wake James up or not?

But before Michael could make a decision, James said sharply, “No!” and woke himself up. He looked around for a moment, obviously disorientated by the unfamiliar environment, and then recognition flared in his eyes when they landed on Michael.

“Oh crap,” he muttered. “How long was I asleep?”

“Not very long,” Michael told him.

James looked at his watch, and grimaced. “It’s past nine!” he said. “I didn’t realise it was that late. I should get going, god knows how long it’s going to take me to get home from here. Even supposing I can work out which buses I need to catch.”

“There’s no need,” Michael said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to give me a lift. I live right across town.”

“No, I didn’t mean that.” Now that he’d started, he figured he might as well plough on. “I meant, you could just stay here.” Off James’ surprised look, he added hastily, “It would only be on the couch, I’m afraid. I don’t have a spare room. But you’re obviously finding it comfortable enough.” He raised an eyebrow, and James looked faintly embarrassed.

“Sorry about that, it wasn’t very polite of me, falling asleep on you like that.”

“Don’t worry about it. You obviously needed it. I’m serious, James. There’s no need for you to go traipsing across town when you don’t have to.”

“But I don’t have any stuff with me.”

“I’m sure I can dig out an old shirt for you to wear, if you want one. And I’ve probably got a spare toothbrush knocking around.”

“Well, if you’re sure…?” James half-smiled, still not apparently convinced that Michael’s offer was sincere. “Your couch is surprisingly comfortable.”

“I am sure,” Michael said firmly. “You’re more than welcome.”

“Well, okay. Thanks.”

Michael nodded and smiled. It turned into a chuckle when James yawned suddenly.

“My point is proved.” Then he looked at James curiously. “What were you dreaming about before, anyway? Do you remember? It sounded a bit intense.”

“Oh, that.” James suddenly looked embarrassed again. “It was nothing. Stupid really.”

“Well, now you just _have_ to tell me.”

“Oh, all right. I was dreaming about the dance, if you must know. Specifically, the end of it. You haven’t seen that bit yet, but you know Edi’s got a bunch more dancers on the stage for that bit, as all the customers.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“Well, I was dreaming that more and more of them – more than there are going to be in real life – kept appearing, and even though I kept trying tell him to stop sending them he just kept pushing more on to the stage. And they were all around me, and I was looking for you, I think, but you weren’t there. And that’s when I woke up.”

“I’ll try not to take it personally that your subconscious has apparently decided I’m the abandoning type,” Michael said dryly.

“It’s just a sign that I’ve been thinking about the damn routine too much, I think,” said James, his face scrunching up in a grimace. “Not that that’s likely to change any time soon.”

“I suppose so.” Michael tried not to dwell on the fact that James had been looking for _him_ in his dream. It gave him an odd feeling, and besides, it meant nothing. Like James had said, they were obviously both thinking about the dance far too much. That was all.

James yawned again, prompting Michael to abandon his unsettling thoughts and push himself up out of the armchair.

“I’ll go and see about that shirt and toothbrush,” he said. “And dig out some blankets for you, too.”

“But I can’t turf you out of your living room yet,” protested James. “It’s not that late.”

“It’s fine. Can you honestly say you wouldn’t fall asleep again right now, given the opportunity?”

James admitted defeat. “Oh, okay. You’re probably right.” Then he gave Michael a narrow look. “And anyway, I suspect I’m not the only one who needs some sleep around here. You’re looking a bit ragged around the edges too.”

“Thanks.” But Michael couldn’t deny that James was right. He’d been yawning himself while James had been napping, and the thought of sleep was more attractive that it should have been at 9:30 on a Saturday night. He was suddenly very grateful that both of them had been excused their usual performances at the club.

“Time for bed then,” he decided out loud, and went to hunt for the blankets. He didn’t want James to be cold, after all.

*~*~*~*~*

“What time do you call this?”

“11am,” said James promptly and without a hint of guilt, beating Michael to it by half a second.

Michael approved. They’d both needed sleep, which if it hadn’t already been obvious was proved when, despite turning in early, Michael hadn’t woken until nearly 9am, and James until getting on for ten.

Edi scowled at both of them. “Exactly! 11am. And I’ve been waiting here for you since nine.”

“Sorry,” said Michael, hearing the insincerity in his voice.

“I should bloody well think so! And not a word from either of you! Ever hear of mobile phones, by any chance?”

“It was off,” replied Michael, omitting to mention that he’d turned it off on purpose shortly after they’d arrived at his flat the previous day, precisely to prevent Edi haranguing them into coming back to work.

“And my battery was flat,” James added.

“Couldn’t you have charged it up?”

“Didn’t have my charger with me, sorry.”

“Didn’t have your…wait a minute. You mean you didn’t go home last night?”

Michael could almost see the cogs turning in Edi’s head, putting that little titbit of information together with the fact that Michael and James had arrived at the club together this morning, and promptly arriving at completely the wrong conclusion.

“Shut up, Edi,” he said, pre-empting the gleeful innuendo he knew was coming their way. “Do you want to see how we’ve been getting on, or not?”

That successfully distracted Edi, and the three of them headed into the studio. 

However, it appeared that Edi wasn’t going to be sidetracked from his original point for long. “You know, I could have checked on your progress yesterday, if the pair of you hadn’t vanished into thin air,” he said, as they started warming up.

“My fault,” said James quickly. “I was having trouble concentrating, and I persuaded Michael that there was no point in practicing.”

“Bullshit,” Michael said, before Edi could respond. He had no idea why James was trying to take the blame on himself, much less why he was doing it by lying, but he wasn’t going to let James do that. “James was exhausted,” he told Edi. “We both were. So we decided to take the day off. And unless you want the two stars of your routine shuffling around the stage like a pair of zombies come next Saturday, you’ll shut up about it right now.”

Edi gaped at the pair of them for a moment and then, much to Michael’s surprise, nodded, looking almost shamefaced. “All right,” he said. “You know your limits, I suppose. But I still expect a certain amount of dedication from both of you. I know we all want this routine to be good.”

And that, Michael supposed, was as close to an apology as they were going to get.

“Right, finish getting warmed up, and then we’ll see how you’re doing.”

An hour or two later, and Edi seemed pretty satisfied. “It’s all coming together,” he said. “You two really do work together well. Matthew definitely made the right decision – although I can’t deny that we originally had one or two reservations.”

“I’m glad you both decided to give me a chance,” James said, obviously divining the nature of those reservations instantly. “Thank you.”

“Well, it was clear from the beginning that you had something special,” Edi pronounced, seemingly unaware of the import of what he’d just said as he consulted his notes.

James blushed slightly, and suddenly found the floor very interesting. Michael gave him a nudge, privately agreeing with Edi. James definitely had something special about him.

“Oh, and you’re great too, Michael,” Edi said suddenly, looking up and tossing out the compliment as if he thought Michael might be feeling left out.

Michael laughed. “Thanks, Edi.”

“Don’t mention it. Now, Matthew and I have been discussing progress, and we’ve decided we’re going to have the first complete run-through on Wednesday. No doubt there’ll be some kinks to iron out at that point, what with having to join up all the sections of the dance, so I’d appreciate it if you two could get your bits as polished as possible, so we don’t have to worry about that. And James and others will work on their sections together for the same reason. Basically, keep practicing.”

Then Edi spotted the now irritated expression on Michael’s face. “Within reason, of course,” he added hastily. “Don’t work yourselves into the ground.”

“We won’t,” Michael promised him.

“Oh, and on Tuesday I want you both to see Jennifer for costume fittings. You won’t be wearing anything too flamboyant, obviously – not like a lot of the costumes on her racks – but we still need to get it right. So she’s expecting both of you between the morning and afternoon practice sessions.”

Michael grimaced, not relishing terribly the prospect of having pins stuck in him. And by the look on James’ face he could tell that James was thinking the same thing.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you to it now,” Edi said. “Remember, practice! It’s going to be great!”

As the studio door shut behind Edi, Michael turned to find James regarding him thoughtfully. “What?”

“I was just thinking about the full run-through on Wednesday,” James said. “And the fact that you haven’t seen me dancing with the others yet.”

“I know,” Michael replied. “So?”

James blinked. “Oh, nothing,” he said. “Just, it’ll be interesting, I think. Shall we practice?”

Michael gave James a narrow-eyed look for a moment, and then shook his head. “No,” he said. “Right now, we’re going to have lunch. _Then_ we’re going to practice. And then we’re going to go home at a reasonable hour and relax.”

James huffed out a laugh. “Sounds like a plan.”

*~*~*~*~*

“Hold still, will you,” Jennifer grumbled around a mouthful of the hated pins.

“It’s a bit hard to when I’m in mortal fear for my life,” Michael retorted back, and was fairly sure that the next stab in his ankle was on purpose.

“Ouch!”

“You moved,” said Jennifer innocently, sticking the last of the pins through the hem of one trouser leg. “Now, hop down so I can take a look at you.”

Obediently (if for no other reason than it meant there were no more pins for the moment), Michael stepped down off the stool and stood while Jennifer looked him up and down.

Her sudden smile of somewhat unholy glee was disconcerting, to say the least. “I am a genius!” she proclaimed. She looked him over again. “It’s not leaving much to the imagination, that’s for sure. How does it feel?”

“Fine, so long as I’m not expected to breathe,” Michael said.

“Rubbish. It fits perfectly.”

Unfortunately, Michael couldn’t really disagree. The trousers he was wearing were snug, but moved with the motion of his body, allowing him the freedom he needed to dance. And while the waistcoat hugged his torso, the fact that his arms were bare meant that there was no restriction around the shoulders to hamper his arm movement either.

“And the colour was definitely the right choice too,” Jennifer mused, almost to herself. “Black really would have been too severe for you.”

Michael’s costume was a dark-charcoal grey, not too far off black, but definitely more sophisticated, according to Jennifer. The only decoration was a thin line of red piping that ran down the side seams of both the trousers and waistcoat.

“Oh, the pair of you are going to look delicious,” Jennifer said, more than a hint of cackle in her voice. “Now, shimmy out of that so I can get started on sewing the hems.”

But Michael didn’t make any move towards getting undressed. “What’s James going to be wearing, anyway?” he asked, suddenly intensely curious.

Jennifer eyed him for a moment, and then shrugged. “Matthew and Edi will probably kill me, but what the hell.” She rummaged through a rack of costumes, and pulled out a hanger. “You think yours is bad? Well, James is going to be leaving _nothing_ to the imagination.”

At first, Michael couldn’t work out what she meant. There didn’t seem to be anything particularly flimsy, or skimpy, about the clothes on the hanger. But then, as she shook them out a bit, Michael saw it.

He could tell, even without seeing them on James’ frame, that the coal-black trousers were even tighter than the ones he was wearing. And while the shirt, made of a deep crimson silk that perfectly matched the trim on Michael’s costume, had long, loose sleeves, the front was slashed open almost to the waist, with no buttons.

Michael could imagine what James would look like in it perfectly.

“James was in here earlier, trying it on,” Jennifer said. “I thought he might take issue, but he seemed to rather like it.” She grinned slyly, obviously imagining the same thing Michael was – except she had the real thing to construct an image from. “Such a shame he bats for the other team, if you ask me.”

“Well, no one did,” Michael snapped abruptly, and then turned away from the surprise in Jennifer’s eyes to struggle out of his own costume.


	3. Chapter 3

Wednesday arrived, and with it the first full cast rehearsal of the routine. Michael arrived at the club that morning feeling strangely jittery. This was the first time he was going to see the other bits of dance, with James and the ‘customers’, and although part of him was looking forward to it, another part of him wasn’t. He’d become used to himself and James dancing together in what he thought of as their little bubble, he realised, and was reluctant to give it up.

“Hey, Fassbender,” Jason greeted him as he wandered out on to the club’s main floor. “Long time, no see. We were beginning to wonder whether you’d kidnapped James and run off with him.”

“Lucas and Álex could have told you that’s not true,” Michael replied shortly, and then reined himself in, unsure why Jason’s flippant comment had irritated him so much.

“I’m sure they could,” said Jason knowingly. “But anyway, I hear it’s been going well. Not that you’d know it from the way Edi’s been behaving ever since he got here. He’s been like a cat on hot bricks.”

“Yeah, it’s like he’s convinced that it’s going to be a total disaster as soon as you all get on the stage together,” said Caleb, coming up behind them. “But at least Jason and I know our part in proceedings will be flawless.” He grinned, and Jason laughed.

“Absolutely. Wait until you hear us. It’ll be a thousand times better than practicing to a CD.”

“So modest, the pair of you,” Michael said, rolling his eyes. Then he gave them a quizzical look. “Didn’t I hear Matthew and Edi saying that we wouldn’t have you guys singing today, though? Because there’s going to be a lot of stopping and starting. So what are you doing here?”

“Nosy, aren’t we?” Jason replied. “Edi’s been keeping all of you under wraps, and this is the first opportunity we’ve had to take a look. I bet it’s going to be quite a sight.” He winked.

Michael stamped on his resurging, and inexplicable, irritation, and forced himself to say, jokingly, “Just so long as you remember it’s ‘eyes only’, gentlemen.” Then he spotted James coming through from the dressing rooms. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I spy my other half.”

He crossed the floor towards James, who saw him coming and gave him a wave.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Michael replied. “Ready for this?”

“I think so. Although I didn’t think we’d ever get here. I know it’s only been a week and half, but it feels like we’ve been practicing forever. I feel like I’m eating, breathing and sleeping this dance.” James glanced at him. “As you well know.”

Michael chuckled. “It hasn’t been too much of a chore though, has it?” he asked. “We’ve had fun, haven’t we?”

“Of course.” James leaned a little closer. “In fact, between you and me, I can’t remember the last time I had such fun dancing. The hard work we’ve been putting in notwithstanding.”

Suddenly a little flustered, Michael could only stare at James for a moment. And then, before he could come up with any kind of response, someone clapped their hands sharply, and they all turned to see Matthew and Edi on the stage, looking at them all expectantly.

“Morning, everybody,” said Matthew. “I’m glad to see you’re all here on time,” he added pointedly, as Lucas hurried through the same door James had appeared from.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m here,” he called, and everyone laughed.

“Thank you, Lucas,” Matthew said, laughing a little too. “Now, as I was saying, since we’re all here _on time_ , we can get started straight away. Edi tells me you’ve all been practicing diligently over the last few days, and I’m looking forward to seeing the results of that begin to come together. So, without further ado, I’ll hand you over to Edi, and you can get going.”

“All right, everyone,” Edi said, stepping forward as Matthew left the stage. “The first thing we’re going to do is practice the transitions. James has been working separately with Michael and with the others on the various sections of the dance, and before we can have a proper run-through we need to knit all that together. I’ve told you all how the transitions will work while going through the choreography, and you all know what you’re doing, so hopefully we shouldn’t have too much trouble with them.”

He looked down at them, as if daring them to disagree, and seemed satisfied when both James and Álex nodded. “Okay, we’ll start from the beginning. James, Michael, Lucas, Álex, get up here.”

Michael boosted himself up on to the stage, eschewing the stairs at the side, and then held out a hand to haul James up after him. Peripherally, he noticed Jason winking again, and Caleb giving everyone a thumbs up, before Matthew drew them into conversation, presumably about something to do with the music.

“We’ll lead in to each transition with the few steps before it,” Edi said, drawing Michael’s attention again, “and then I want you to carry on a few steps afterwards so we can identify any awkward bits. Not that there’ll _be_ any awkward bits.” Again, Edi’s expression dared them to criticise, or mess up, his choreography, and wisely, no one said a word.

“Okay, let’s give this a go.”

“We should probably start over here,” James said, leading Michael to a spot just off the centre of the stage. Michael realised that James was probably a lot more aware of the spatial dynamics of the dance, and where everyone was supposed to be, than he was, and let himself be led.

“Shall we begin at ‘Love is for the highest bidder’?” James asked. “That should give us a good lead in.”

“Fine by me,” Michael replied, and they took up their respective positions.

“Steps only right now,” Edi put in. “Don’t waste all your energy on the emotion just yet – we’re just dealing with the mechanics at the moment.”

They both nodded, and at Edi’s gesture began dancing. As per Edi’s instructions, they both left the emotion out, but there was no denying that the choreography at the end of this first section of the routine had a certain viciousness to it that couldn’t be completely smothered, even just blocking out the steps as they were.

And out of the corner of his eye Michael could see that Lucas, Álex, and Edi himself, had taken up their positions around himself and James, waiting for the moment when Michael pushed James away and Álex could instantly step up to lay hold of him.

The moment came, and Michael disdainfully stalked away, leaving James in Álex’s embrace. But he wasn’t prepared for the odd, sharp little pang that assailed him when he saw Álex’s hands settle on James’ hips, claiming him. He almost wanted to turn back, routine be damned, and ask Álex what the hell he thought he was doing.

The turn of his thoughts was unexpected and bewildering enough that it wasn’t until Edi spoke again that he realised how distracted he’d become, and that the dance had carried on, completing the transition and a little bit more beyond it.

“That was good, guys. Very good. Very smooth. We’ll practice all these several times, but I want to run through them all first once. So we’ll move on to the next one, where you take James back from the others, Michael.”

Michael moved off to one side slightly, in the direction Edi indicated, as James, Álex, and Lucas all arranged themselves. Then, suddenly, there was a slight pause, as the three of them looked expectantly at Edi.

“Er, Edi…?” Lucas said tentatively. He looked almost embarrassed at addressing Edi, and Michael suddenly remembered what James had said about Lucas’ crush. He glanced between Lucas and Edi quickly, wondering again if it was true. Surely Lucas couldn’t be as uncomfortable around Edi as he appeared now _all_ the time? They’d never have got the dance sorted properly if that was the case.

It took Edi a couple of seconds to catch on, and then he started slightly. “What? Oh, right, this is me, isn’t it? I’d forgotten, in all the excitement.”

James and Álex chuckled, while Lucas looked even more embarrassed (if that were possible), as Edi hurried in amongst them.

“Okay, I think we’ll just start from the lift here…”

“For which I _definitely_ need you,” James put in, still grinning. “Last time I looked I couldn’t lift myself.”

“…because that’s pretty much all we need to make the transition work,” Edi finished pointedly, although he was smiling too. “Michael, you know you need to walk slowly into centre stage as I let James down, and then wait for him to come to you, right?”

“Yes, I think I’ve got it,” Michael replied shortly. “We’ve only practiced this, what, a million times already?”

“But not with everyone else, and _not_ with the lift,” Edi retorted. “Don’t get smart with me, Fassbender.”

Michael noticed James shooting him a worried look, as if he was trying to work out the cause of Michael’s rather abrupt downturn in mood. Truthfully, Michael barely knew himself what was causing it, both now and earlier, and at James’ expression he tried to shake it off, giving James a quick smile.

“Sorry,” he told Edi. “I’m good to go.”

“Glad to hear it. James, are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” James said, and Michael saw him flex his knees slightly, prepared to push off from the floor as Edi lifted him.

The lift was almost perfect, with only a slight wobble in the middle betraying that Edi might have been a little off-balance, and Michael stepped forward at the right moment, just as James’ feet returned to the floor.

He kept his eyes on James as James walked towards him and his hands came up to frame Michael’s face. Michael’s own hands lifted to curl around James’ wrists, holding him close, and again he felt an odd sensation in his chest, and stranger still, some tension he didn’t know he’d been carrying seemed to leech out of him.

Without really thinking, he segued into the next steps of the dance, taking James with him, and once again it was Edi’s voice that interrupted them.

“That was good too,” Edi said. “This is going better than I’d hoped.”

“I think I’m offended,” said Lucas, who hadn’t actually had to participate yet.

“Just make sure you don’t fuck it up, okay?” Edi shot back at him, grinning, and Lucas gave him the finger.

Michael blinked. It appeared he wasn’t the only one having mood swings, if Lucas’ sudden cheerfulness was anything to go by.

“The lift was a bit wobbly,” James said, extricating himself from Michael’s grasp. For a moment, Michael fought with the sudden urge to just hold on to him, but then he forced his fingers to let go, so James could move away.

“Nothing we can’t fix,” said Edi. “You didn’t feel unsafe up there, did you, though?” he added, briefly looking faintly worried.

“Oh, no,” James assured him. “And that time was probably just as much my fault as yours – I don’t think I pushed upwards quite right. But I do want to make sure I’m not unbalanced when I land. Stumbling into Michael’s arms isn’t going to look very sexy.”

“True. Don’t worry, we’ll work on it more later.”

Privately, Michael didn’t really care how James came into his arms, so long as he got there. Then he frowned at the thought, wondering where it had come from.

“Right, those are the two main dancing transitions,” Edi was saying. “But I do also want to practice the bit later on, where the lover forsakes the prostitute for the final time, and he goes back to his customers. We need to pin down the timing of that, and where exactly everyone is going to be on the stage, so I’ll get the music track put on for that. Then we’ll practice all the transitions a few more times before we try a complete run-through.”

Subsequent practices of the transitions went pretty much as well as the first ones had, pleasing Edi even more. However, it was lucky for Michael that he had the knack of picking up dance moves, and for remembering them pretty much photographically once he had, as he spent the rest of the rehearsal getting ever more distracted.

It was impossible to ignore the fact that every time he had to let go of James he almost had to force himself to do it, struggling with the flare of something inside him that instead made him want to keep as tight a hold as possible. And every time James came back to him he couldn’t deny how much better he felt.

By the time they were nearing lunch he was thoroughly confused.

“Right, we’ll break for food in about half an hour,” Edi called out. “But before we do, I want to do one complete run through, just to see what we’ve got now. There will probably be a certain number of wrinkles to iron out, but I won’t know where they are until I see how the whole thing hangs together.”

He waved over to Caleb who, along with Jason, didn’t seem to have got bored yet, and was still hanging around. The pair of them seemed to have appointed themselves musical directors for the day, even without their voices being required, and had settled themselves down by the club’s sound system. Caleb nodded back to Edi’s gesture, obviously poised and ready.

“Don’t worry if something seems a bit off,” Edi told all the dancers. “Just keep going and I’ll make a note to address it later.”

Michael, James, and the others all positioned themselves in the wings of the stage, ready, and a few seconds later the gruff voice of the track’s vocalist rang out through the speakers.

_“We have a dance, in the brothels of Buenos Aires…”_

Michael watched as James slowly emerged on to the stage, and then at his cue, did likewise. The music was helping him focus, and lose the confused jitters that had been dogging him all morning – he could feel himself settling into the dance already, even within a very few steps.

_“It tells the story of a prostitute, and a man who falls in love with him.”_

The first sweep of violins propelled Michael forward, and he and James came together at just the right moment, the rest of the world melting away as they danced.

But the first transition seemed to arrive far too quickly, and Michael was suddenly forced to walk away, retreating to the edge of the stage where he could lean against a pillar and watch, still in view of the audience, but sidelined as James danced with his ‘customers’.

By the time he’d reached the right spot, James was already moving on from Álex to Lucas, and Michael was totally unprepared for the hot spike of something that might almost have been anger as James was pulled from Álex’s lingering hands by Lucas’ grasping ones, both of them touching James in places they had no right to.

He felt his hands clench into fists at precisely the same moment that he realised just what he was feeling.

Totally off-balance, he almost missed his cue to rejoin the dance again, but it wasn’t the almost-mistake that made him move forward faster than he probably should have done. He simply couldn’t restrain himself, even though he was supposed to wait for James to come to him, for James to walk away from Edi voluntarily.

And he did wait – but only for Edi’s hands to let go, and for James’ to come up enough that Michael could catch hold of James’ wrists and _pull_ him in, almost yanking him into Michael’s embrace, where he damn well belonged.

Wide blue eyes stared up at him for a split second, startled at the sudden change to the practiced steps, but amazingly, James didn’t stop or falter, and let himself be led into the next part of the dance, keeping up with everything Michael threw at him.

And Michael knew he _was_ throwing things at James that James wasn’t prepared for. This wasn’t how they’d practiced this, not quite. Possessiveness was part of the lover’s character, of course, but this was still only a dance, still only play-acting

At least, it was for James. For Michael, it was suddenly something more, and it was as if this was the only way he knew how to dance.

Somehow, miraculously, they made it to the end of the routine, and suddenly James was in a heap at his feet, looking for all the world like he had just been murdered by a lover in a jealous rage.

There was a moment of absolute silence, and then Jason wolf-whistled and Caleb and Matthew started clapping enthusiastically.

Michael glanced around as James stirred, seeing startled looks directed their way by the other dancers around them, and he suddenly wondered what exactly it was that they’d just seen, and what the hell they were thinking now.

“What the hell was _that?_ ” Edi stepped forward out of the group suddenly, staring, narrow-eyed, at Michael. “I don’t recall the other rehearsals going quite like that.”

Michael floundered for a moment, and then answered lamely, “I was improvising.”

“Improvising?” Edi repeated, still staring.

Michael’s struggle for a better explanation was interrupted, as James chose that moment to sit up. He let out a small groan and rolled his shoulders, and without thinking Michael leaned down slightly, took his arm and hauled him to his feet.

“Thanks,” James said, although he seemed slightly wary, and his eyes seemed to be glued to where Michael’s fingers were curled round his arm.

Michael let go quickly, and turned back to Edi. “Yes, improvising,” he said, grateful for the few extra seconds James had given him to get his thoughts in some sort of order. “I suppose I was just in the zone. Caught up in the moment, if you like.”

Edi stared at him for another moment and then, unexpectedly, grinned. “I’ll say!” he exclaimed. “That was _some_ improvisation – I loved it! Do you think you can keep it up?”

Michael absolutely did _not_ look at James in that moment. “No problem,” he said, his voice studiously casual.

“Brilliant! Oh, James, you don’t mind do you?” Edi asked belatedly. “He was rather…enthusiastic with you.”

“No, I don’t mind,” James replied, eyeing Michael sidelong. “It’s fine. Whatever works for the dance, works for me.”

“Good. Okay, I make that lunch. Everyone back here in forty-five, and we can start working on the sections I’ve specifically noted for fine-tuning.”

Michael retreated instantly towards the backstage area and the dressing rooms, trying to disappear before…

“Michael! Hey, wait!”

His heart sank a little. He’d been hoping that James would head on out of the club with the others to find some lunch, giving Michael some space. He felt a little punch-drunk, and his mind was awhirl.

He turned around slowly to face James. “Something you needed?”

James gave him a quizzical look at his artificially neutral tone, but only said, “I just wanted to ask you about earlier.”

“What about earlier?”

Now James’ expression told Michael his fake-innocent act wasn’t fooling anyone, but he elaborated nonetheless. “Your sudden dedication to extreme method-acting, that’s what. Ring any bells?”

“Oh, that.” Michael shrugged. “Like I said, I improvised. Just got swept up by the dance, I guess. You don’t really mind, do you?”

“No, of course not. I just wondered…you know what, never mind. Forget it. It was great, it’s going to make the dance great, and that’s what Matthew wants.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Anyway, are you going to get some lunch? We could go to out normal place, if you want. That is, if the others haven’t already descended on it and cleaned it out.”

“Actually, I’ve got some snacks and stuff in the back,” Michael said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction he’d been heading. “I think I’m just going to grab those and take a bit of a time-out. It’s been a bit of an intense morning.”

Then he almost bit his tongue off, wondering what the hell had possessed him to utter those last words. He braced himself for more questions.

But James just laughed. “I can’t disagree with you there! But then, I suppose we’d already worked out that it was going to be an intense routine.”

Michael nodded and forced a smile.

“Well, I’m going to head off and get some food then. Sure you don’t want anything? I could bring you back something.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay, see you later.”

James gave him a quick smile, and then hurried off after the others. Michael made his way backstage, grateful for the sudden peace and quiet. He needed to get his head sorted out, and he needed to do it quickly.

*~*~*~*~*

Michael all but slammed the door to his flat, and then leaned against the comforting solidity of the wood, closed his eyes, and just _breathed_.

How had this happened? And more importantly, _how_ hadn’t he seen it coming? He trawled back through his memories of the past week and a half, searching for signs, for something he’d missed, something that should have set the alarm bells ringing, but found nothing.

Nothing but the recollection of how quickly James had slotted into his life, how fast they’d become friends, how comfortable he’d become in James’ presence in such a short space of time.

He supposed those _were_ the signs. Only clearly he’d been too oblivious to see them for what they were.

And therefore nothing had prepared him for the sudden roar of jealousy, of _possessiveness_ , that had assailed him earlier today. When he’d seen other people touching James. When hands other than his own had dared to caress places where only Michael’s should have been allowed.

The wry curl of Michel’s lips could hardly have been called a smile. Jealous lover, indeed.

Except that that description was only half-accurate. And he knew full well that the inaccurate half gave him no right to be jealous at all.

The afternoon he’d just endured had been nothing short of torture, the fresh realisation of what he felt for James doing battle with the desire not to betray himself to anyone, James least of all.

He’d tried to rein himself in, he really had. He had his story of improvisation and dedication to the dance to fall back on, but there was no point in tempting fate. And he didn’t want to give James any more opportunities to get too close to the truth, least of all when he was still trying to sort out what the truth even _was_.

He wanted James, that much he knew. He wanted him enough that he was no longer playing a role in their dance. The jealousy was real enough now.

But he was also slowly coming to realise that it was something more than that. It wasn’t just about touching, or taking, or having. It was about the way James sounded when he laughed at Michael’s jokes, the way he gently mocked Michael’s DVD collection, the way he looked when he was asleep on Michael’s couch.

It was about _James_. And that was more frightening than all the jealousy in the world.

So he’d tried to keep himself in check, terrified that James was somehow going to magically divine everything that was in Michael’s head, and heart, just from the way he was dancing.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t counted on Edi, who had picked up on Michael’s sudden reticence as soon as they started practicing again after lunch, and demanded an explanation.

_“Michael! What the hell are you doing?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“You’ve lost it. Where’s all that passion you were displaying this morning? I told you I liked it, so don’t stop now. Go for it, for fuck’s sake!”_

And so Michael had been forced to continue down a very dangerous path. Not that it had been too hard to continue as he had started that morning. Awareness of what he was feeling didn’t do anything to subdue those emotions, and it was all too easy to let it all rise to the surface every time Lucas, Álex, or Edi himself, laid hold of James.

It was all too easy to pretend that James was _his_.

And he’d known then that he was completely and utterly screwed.

The knocking almost deafened him, still leaning as he was against the door, and thus mere inches away from where someone’s knuckles were rapping against painted wood.

For a second, he thought about pretending he wasn’t in, but then he realised that if his visitor was already in the building there was really only one person it could be, and therefore they’d probably heard him arriving home.

Sighing, Michael prised himself away from the door and opened it, finding, as he’d suspected, his neighbour Kevin, from the flat upstairs, standing the hallway.

“Hey, Michael.”

“Hi.”

“Just came down to give you this. Sorry, must have picked it up with my mail earlier.”

He held out an envelope and Michael took it automatically.

“Looks like a bill or something, and much as we’d all like to lose those, I don’t think that would work out very well in the long run, do you?”

“I suppose not.”

Kevin peered more closely at him then, and said rather bluntly, “Are you all right? You don’t look too good, to put not too fine a point on it.”

 _Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just having some kind of emotional crisis_ , Michael didn’t say. Instead, he muttered, “I’m fine, just a bit tired. Been working some long hours this past week or so.”

“Tell me about it!” Kevin exclaimed. “We work all the hours gods sends, and just when you think you’re finally doing enough to pay the rent, the tax man decides to take even more of it!”

Michael nodded, wondering if it would be unforgivably rude to just shut the door in Kevin’s face. And Kevin’s next words only made him wish he’d already done it.

“No sign of that new friend of yours today, I see?” Kevin said, his tone and his smirk indicating exactly what he meant by ‘friend’. “I saw you two coming in last Saturday, and may I just say, well done, that man!”

“No,” Michael snapped. And then, when Kevin looked faintly startled, “We’re just work colleagues, that’s all.”

“Okay, just work colleagues, I get it.” Kevin held up his hands placatingly.

“Look, I’m sorry. I really am tired, so if you don’t mind…?”

“Oh, of course, I’ll leave you to it.” Kevin started backing away towards the stairs at the end of the hall, and Michael summoned up a quick smile.

“Thanks for the letter.”

“No problem.”

And then, thankfully, the door was shut, and Michael could get on with his emotional crisis in peace.


	4. Chapter 4

Things only got worse the next day when, after hours of simultaneously striving to act normally around James, and wanting to commit acts of extreme violence against anyone else who dared to touch him, Edi called them all together at the end of the afternoon.

“We’ve had a really great day today, guys. The routine’s come together better than I ever could have hoped, and with the vocals and proper musical track incorporated, it’s all looking – and sounding – better than ever.”

Jason and Caleb looked smug at that, justifiably, Michael supposed. They both had very different voices, but somehow Jason’s gravelly tones and Caleb’s smoother register had blended perfectly.

And the music itself had been something of a surprise too. Used to practicing with the commercial version of the track, complete with its almost overblown drama, Michael had found the much quieter arrangement that Edi had demanded somewhat disconcerting at first. But he’d quickly come to appreciate how much better it suited their venue, and the kind of atmosphere that Edi and Matthew were trying to create. Almost entirely based around just a small number of violins, it sounded by turns sultry, sinister and melancholy. It was just right for what they were trying to achieve, and Michael had overheard several other members of the company voicing the same thought throughout the day.

“But we’ve only got a couple of days of rehearsing time left before the first performance on Saturday night,” Edi continued. “And therefore tomorrow we’re going to have our first full-blown dress rehearsal. I’ve seen all the costumes Jennifer’s been working on, and let me tell you, I’m pretty excited.”

Dress rehearsal. Michael felt the blood drain from his face as Jennifer’s words from his fitting the other day came back to him suddenly and vividly.

 _“You think yours is bad? Well, James is going to be leaving_ nothing _to the imagination.”_

And, as Michael had recently been discovering, he had a _very_ vivid imagination when it came to James.

“Michael?”

He blinked, and realised that the rest of the company was dispersing, obviously dismissed for the day by Matthew. Except for James, who was standing right in front of him.

“Michael, are you all right?”

He pulled himself together a little. “Yes, why?”

“Because when Edi just mentioned the dress rehearsal you went as white as a sheet and looked like you were about to pass out.”

James actually looked genuinely worried about him, and it took everything Michael had not to reach out and pull him close. He touched James too much as it was – and okay, it wasn’t like he had choice about that most of the time, but there was no sense in giving James any cause to become suspicious. Particularly as he was fairly certain that hugging him would make James a lot _more_ than suspicious.

He forced a rueful smile. “I’m just not looking forward to being at Jennifer’s mercy again, that’s all,” he said. “No doubt she’ll find another excuse to stick some more pins in me.”

James’ worry dissolved into a smirk. “I don’t think she’s ever stuck any pins in me,” he said. “She must like me.”

It was utterly ridiculous to be jealous of _Jennifer_ , but Michael couldn’t help the small pang anyway. “Yes, I suppose she must,” he replied, trying to keep his voice light. “You do seem to be very popular with everyone.”

And unfortunately, that was exactly the problem.

*~*~*~*~*

Jennifer’s gaze roved critically over him while Michael stood still and endured her scrutiny, praying that he would remain safe from her pins.

He breathed a silent sigh of relief when, a moment later, she uncrossed her arms and proclaimed, “Perfect! I am a fashion genius!”

“How your creations haven’t made it to the Paris catwalks, I’ll never know,” Michael said, although he smiled to take the sting out of the words, and Jennifer merely poked her tongue out at him in response.

Then her eyes widened as she spotted something over his shoulder. “Holy cow, I really _am_ a genius.”

Michael turned around at the same time as a chorus of wolf whistles broke out, and suddenly discovered the true and literal meaning of the phrase ‘jaw-dropping’.

Jennifer hadn’t been kidding in the slightest when she’d said that James’ costume left nothing to the imagination. The black trousers looked as if they’d been _painted_ on, and the open front of the red silk shirt exposed a not insignificant amount of skin. Skin that Michael was going to have to become intimately acquainted with very soon.

James, somewhat unusually, looked rather embarrassed by all the attention. “What do you think?” he asked, as he approached Michael.

“You look…good,” Michael replied, hearing how strangled his voice sounded, and sure that everyone else would notice too.

James didn’t appear to pick up on it, however. “I feel like I’m practically naked,” he grumbled.

The apocalypse itself couldn’t have stopped the images that flashed through Michael’s mind at the moment, and with a supreme effort he managed to paste an expression on his face that he hoped was more amused, and less ‘Let me ravish you right here and now’. “And this coming from a man who used to prance around on stage in tights,” he teased.

James grimaced. “Don’t remind me. And besides, I think a ballet audience’s focus is rather different.”

Jennifer laughed. “Surely you’re not insinuating that our audience are paying attention to assets other than your dance talent,” she said. “I’m sure Michael’s terribly insulted by that idea.”

“Devastated,” Michael deadpanned.

James laughed too. “Okay, I’ll shut up. The costume’s wonderful, Jennifer. You’re a genius.”

“See, I told you,” Jennifer exclaimed, looking smug.

At that moment, Matthew and Edi came over. “You both look amazing,” Matthew said. “Jennifer, you’ve done a brilliant job.”

Jennifer looked even smugger, and Michael rolled his eyes. She was going to be unbearable for weeks about this, he could just tell.

“Good enough to eat,” Edi agreed, somewhat lewdly, and the green-eyed monster currently residing in Michael’s chest twitched slightly. He squashed it down resolutely.

“Ew, cannibalism,” Caleb yelled, having somehow overheard them from the other side of the room. Edi flipped him the finger, and then turned back to them.

“Let me see you move a bit in them,” he said to Michael and James. “Try the first few phrases of the routine after you join up, just so we can check you’re not being hampered in any way.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw that Jennifer was the one apparently feeling insulted now, considering the look on her face. But he only had about five percent of his attention to spare for her, as the other ninety-five percent was suddenly focused on the fact that he was going to have to dance. With James. While he was wearing that costume. Something he’d known intellectually of course, and been simultaneously dreading and anticipating, but which was now suddenly a terrifying reality.

“Are you all right?” James asked quietly, as he stepped into Michael’s space. “Your hands are trembling.”

“Cold,” Michael lied quickly, hoping that James hadn’t noticed the sweat that seemed to have broken out all over him. “Not all of us get to swathe ourselves in red silk, after all.”

“I’m hardly ‘swathed’ in it,” James pointed out, but much to Michael’s relief didn’t pursue the conversation, simply raising his arms into position so Michael could take hold of his hands in his own – still trembling – ones.

He could do this. He could.

And, much to his surprise, it turned out that he actually _could_. While that first quick try-out was a little shaky (something he could – and did – blame on getting used to moving in the costume instead of his looser practice kit), after that he found himself relaxing a little.

James looked phenomenal, of course, and there was no getting away from the fact that, when Michael slid his hands across all that red silk, he could feel the heat rising from James’ skin through it, soaking into his fingers, and the rest of him where they were pressed together.

There was also no escaping the jealousy that still slithered through his veins as he watched James dance with the others. The desperate, possessive, and not at all fake, _want_ was still there, but he found that he had a better handle on it now, almost as if, having had time to think about and acknowledge his feelings, having _accepted_ them and the fact he couldn’t do anything about them, they had settled into something that was easier to deal with, something that was easier to keep inside, where it belonged.

He could still draw on it, of course, and he needed to, for the dance. But Michael was slightly less afraid, as the day wore on, of betraying himself, of betraying that the possessiveness he was displaying was anything more than a required pretence.

After a couple of hours, he realised he was actually enjoying himself.

“They change things, don’t they?” James said to him, in a quiet moment between practice runs.

“What do?” Michael said.

“The costumes. They really help me get into the role, I always find.”

Michael thought about confessing that he needed no help at all in that regard, but knew it would be the height of stupidity. So instead he just nodded. “You’re not wrong.”

“Jennifer’s done a great job. Have I told you that you look amazing?”

“I do?”

“Of course you do. You look…well, dangerous is the word that springs to mind.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

James grinned. “Let’s just say I’m having no difficulty in seeing you as my jealous lover.”

Michael’s heart almost stopped. He really thought he’d been doing a better job than that.

“I suppose I should be glad that it’s all just play acting, hmmm?” James added, and Michael heart went from frozen, to pounding so hard with relief – and maybe a hint of disappointment, although he was determinedly _not_ acknowledging that – that he was sure James would hear it.

“Hey, you two!” Jennifer bounced up to them. “Matthew says that’s enough with the costumes for today. I need time to get them laundered for tomorrow night, so you’re carrying on in normal clothing for the rest of the day.”

James mock-pouted. “Oh, but I was just starting to get used to it,” he said.

“Sorry, but he who must be obeyed has spoken,” Jennifer replied. “Off you go.”

Michael let James hurry off to the dressing rooms ahead of him, lingering on the stage going through a few steps until he was sure that James would have been changed his clothes.

Emotional reactions weren’t the only thing he’d been worried about displaying, particularly with them both in costume. Michael was currently counting himself extremely lucky that he hadn’t had the physical reactions to match, and he wasn’t about to start tempting fate on that score by watching James strip off. Over the years he’d managed to hone his body’s control in that area – this wasn’t the first time he’d found a fellow dancer attractive, or even developed a crush on them, after all (although his feelings for James were far, far more than a crush). And even without feelings of any kind involved, in their kind of dancing, where bodies pressed and slid together rather frequently, friction caused the kind of response that was unavoidable unless you’d trained yourself to ignore it.

Michael _had_ trained himself, and well, and thus far had managed to avoid any embarrassing reactions of that nature around James that would have given the whole game away. But that didn’t change the fact that, underneath that training and control, his body still _wanted_ to have those reactions, and he wasn’t about to let it now.

At least, not until he was in the privacy of his own home.

“Hey, Michael, get a move on! Time is money, you know!” Matthew’s shout broke into his reverie, and he realised that practically everyone else had disappeared backstage except him.

“Sorry,” he called back, and followed their lead, praying that James had had enough time to get changed.

*~*~*~*~*

The rest of the day passed in a blur of more practice, lighting and sound tests, and the ever-present awareness of James, always James.

It was nearly seven by the time Michael achieved the privacy he’d started to crave more and more as the day had gone on. Rehearsals had come to halt around six, the necessity of clearing the club for the Friday night crowd overruling Edi’s obvious desire to keep them practicing well into the evening.

But Matthew had pointed out the club’s need to turn a profit as well as cater to Edi’s artistic vision, and Edi had reluctantly let them all disperse, some to grab a quick bite before they started getting themselves ready for the evening’s work, and the principle dancers of the routine to their homes, grateful that they had the opportunity to get a decent night’s rest before final rehearsals, and their first performance, the next day.

First performance. Michael couldn’t quite believe that they were already there. It had been less than two weeks since they’d first started practicing, and it seemed like both a much longer and much shorter length of time. Michael felt like he’d known James for much longer than the fortnight they’d been dancing together, and at the same time he didn’t feel like he’d known him long _enough_. He regretted now not making more of an effort to befriend James when he’d first arrived at the club.

However, when he entered his flat that evening, he wasn’t thinking about any of that. He was just thinking about _James_.

But he waited until he was in the shower, the spray hot and pounding, before he finally loosened his grip on the control that had protected him through the day, and let those thoughts start to take shape properly.

He let his mind drift back to that morning, thinking about the way his hands had slid across the red silk encasing James’ body, about the fact that it had been the only thing separating his fingers from James’ skin. He thought about the scent of James’ hair, when the dance had forced him close enough to detect it. And he thought about the way James’ grip had curled around his arms, left bare by his own costume, and how each touch had felt like a brand.

Michael hissed as he finally let his hand drift down his cock, hard almost since the moment he’d let it be so. He closed his eyes as he started to stroke himself, replaying images of James behind his eyelids, trying to conjure up the feeling of another body pressed against his own, and imagining that it was another hand that encircled his cock.

He came, gasping, to the image of smouldering blue eyes and the phantom sensation of a leg hooking around his waist to pull him close.

*~*~*~*~*

And then it was Saturday, and opening night for the routine. And Michael abruptly discovered that, while his control over his body might be firmly back in place, after his deliberate lapse the previous evening, his control over his feelings perhaps wasn’t as good as he’d hoped.

He and James were sharing a dressing room. It was small – two mirrors with shelves and chairs, and for some reason, a couch that took up far too much space – and it the only one the club had that was separate from the main area that everyone else was forced to use, but it was at least private, and quiet enough to allow Michael to gather his focus.

Unfortunately, the only thing he could seem to focus on right now was the fact that James was sitting across from him, staring intently into a mirror while he applied his make-up.

Michael didn’t know what it was that James had put on his lips to make them seem even redder than they already were. And the line of dark kohl that he was currently applying around his eyes only made them seem bigger and bluer than ever. James had already donned his costume, and the whole effect was more than arresting. He looked…well, he looked like a prostitute. One that men would pay any amount of money to get their hands on.

Distractedly, Michael supposed that was the point.

“After some make-up tips?” James asked, and Michael realised that he was looking straight at Michael where he was reflected in James’ in the mirror.

He shook his head. “No, thanks, I’m good.” His own make-up was already in place. Less elaborate than James’, it was designed merely to highlight the sharp angles of his face and make him look intense and predatory - maybe even a little dangerous, as James had put it.

James’s reflection grinned at him, finished the last line of kohl with a flourish, and then twisted around until Michael was looking at James himself. “Opening night, huh?” he said. “I must admit, there were a few times when I thought we might not make it here in one piece. You weren’t kidding back on day one when you said Edi was a slave driver!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever put so much of myself into a dance,” Michael agreed, and then hoped that James wouldn’t pick up on his real meaning. “It’s going to be good.”

“It’s going to be great,” James corrected him. “We’re going to be great.”

“Not too modest, are you?”

“What’s the point in false modesty?” James said, dismissing Michael’s jibe with a wave of his hand. “We’ve worked hard on this. We should be proud of ourselves.”

Michael huffed a short laugh. James’ attitude was infectious, and he found himself nodding in agreement.

Then there was a quick knock at the door, and Jason stuck his head in.

“Ten minutes until you’re on, boys,” he announced. “And Edi wants to see everyone together beforehand. Some kind of pep talk, no doubt.” He grinned, and winked at them. “So I’d finish up whatever it is you’re doing in here, and get your pretty selves out there.”

Michael flushed at the innuendo dripping from Jason’s voice, and gave him the finger. But Jason only chuckled and withdrew, and Michael resisted the urge to hurl a few curses after him.

James examined his reflection in the mirror one final time, and then jumped up. “Come on, then,” he said. “I suppose we’d better not keep Edi waiting.” He grabbed Michael’s hand and hauled him up from his seat, before letting go just as abruptly so he could open the door.

Michael’s palm tingled for a moment where James had grasped it. He stared at it stupidly for a moment, then took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders, and followed James out the door.

The pep talk wasn’t exactly a ‘talk’. Instead, Edi just stared at them silently for nearly a minute, while the bustle and noise of the club on a Saturday night flowed around them, and then managed a strangled “Knock them dead,” before he abruptly turned on his heel and hurried off in the direction of the stage, Álex and Lucas trailing in his wake.

Jason laughed, and then dragged Caleb off to the musicians’ area. The rest of the dancers for the end of the routine melted away into the dimly lit backstage area, to keep out of the way until they were needed, and Michael and James were suddenly alone in their own little oasis of momentary calm.

“Well, this is it,” James offered. “Good luck.”

In the low light Michael couldn’t quite make out his expression, but he thought he detected an odd note in James’ voice. Then he dismissed it. James was nervous, that was all. Hell, Michael was nervous himself, for a whole variety of reasons.

“Same to you,” he replied. Then he lifted his hand and gave James’ shoulder a quick squeeze, unable to resist. “See you on the other side.”

“A bit sooner than that, I hope,” said James, chuckling a little.

“Two minutes, guys,” an unidentified voice hissed at them from somewhere, and Michael let his hand drop away.

“I guess that’s our cue, then,” he said. “Let’s knock them dead,” he added, echoing Edi’s words.

James laughed again, and then suddenly sobered. Michael still couldn’t see him very well, but he suddenly got the feeling that James was about to say something important. He held his breath.

“Michael…”

“Yes.”

“ _Guys_ ,” the same voice hissed. “One minute!”

“Oh, never mind, it’ll keep,” said James hastily. Then he was hurrying away to take up his starting position, and Michael moved to do likewise, taking a few more deep breaths and trying to relax himself.

From the wings he was very aware of the hum of the crowd out in the club, the audience expectantly awaiting the next act, the something new they’d been promised by the posters plastered up around the club.

From the noise, ut sounded like there was a full house tonight, and Michael suddenly realised he was going to have dance in front of them all. With James. He didn’t care about himself – he’d danced in front of this crowd hundreds of times – but James was going to be on display to all of them too. All those eyes, fixed on him, watching him. _Wanting_ him, Michael had no doubt.

The sheer force of the emotion that slammed in to him at that moment almost took his breath away. It wasn’t rage, precisely, or jealousy, or desire – it was some unholy mixture of all three, and it left Michael wanting to cross the stage to where James was waiting, lay hold of him, and drag him off somewhere where no one could lay hand or eye on him.

But he’d missed his opportunity. Matthew was walking on to the stage, to announce the act, and they all had no choice but to go through with it now.

“Gentleman, gentlemen,” Matthew was saying into the microphone in his hand, making a calming gesture with his hands to try and settle the crowd. Then he brought his free hand up to his brow, peering out over the audience exaggeratedly. “Although I see we do in fact have a few ladies in here tonight too,” he added, eliciting a small laugh from the audience. “Anyway, as I was saying, welcome everyone. Are you having a good time?”

An appreciative round of cat-calls was his response, and he grinned. “Glad to hear it! Well, gents – and ladies, of course – it’s now time for a new act, which I’m sure you’ve seen advertised around the place. We’re trying something a bit different this time, but I’m sure you’ll all enjoy it. I know everyone involved has been putting in a lot of work precisely so you _will_ enjoy it…”

Michael gritted his teeth. Suddenly he didn’t want anyone to do anything of the sort.

“So, without further ado, I present to you ‘El Tango de Roxanne’.”

The club abruptly went dark, only the lights at the bars providing any illumination, and Michael heard Matthew making his way off the stage as the audience quietened, sensing they were about to see something a bit out of the ordinary, as Matthew had promised.

There was a moment of silence, and then Jason’s voice broke across the darkness.

“We have a dance, in the brothels of Buenos Aires. It tells the story of a prostitute…”

The lights at the back of the stage came up, to reveal James standing alone, eyes cast demurely downwards, even as the sensuous line of his posture left the audience in no doubt who he was supposed to be.

“…and a man who falls in love with him.”

That was Michael’s cue, and he prowled out on to the stage, a tall, lean, dangerous figure. He managed to stop himself from going straight to James only by sheer force of will. He had to wait, even as his fingers itched to reach out and grab, to pull James away from the eyes he knew were watching him greedily.

Then the violins kicked in, and he could move, finally, melting into James’ orbit.

“First, there is desire…”

They circled each other, eventually coming within touching distance, and as James’ hand came up to caress the side of Michael’s face, Michael felt sure James would feel the tremble under his skin.

“Then, passion…then, suspicion…”

Michael’s focus sharpened as Edi, Lucas and Álex slipped on to the stage, drawing closer, surrounding them like wolves hunting their prey. He had eyes only for James, but he knew the others were there, just waiting for their chance.

“…jealousy, anger, betrayal. Where love is for the highest bidder, there can be no trust. Without trust, there is no love.”

How quickly the tone of the dance changed. Michael felt it overtake him as he and James moved around the stage. In some part of his mind he knew he was being too forceful. Oh, he was still precise – elegant, even – every step perfectly executed. But at the same time he knew he was holding on to James too tightly, pulling and pushing too sharply, taking things further than he had even in rehearsals.

But he couldn’t stop himself. James was his, and he was determined that everyone should know it.

“Jealousy! Yes, jealousy…will drive you _mad_.”

James’ pale, anguished face imprinted itself on his mind as he was dragged away from Michael, and Michael knew he should have let go voluntarily, but he was damned if he was going to give up James without a fight.

He raged internally as he prowled on the sidelines, every touch of a hand not his own on James making him narrow his eyes and clench his fists. He knew he wasn’t imagining that James’ eyes strayed to him more often than they should, focused as they were supposed to be on his ‘customers’, and he felt his lips curve into a satisfied smile, one that he knew James could see.

He stepped in and took James back as soon as he could, dragging him out of Edi’s lift almost before his feet had touched the floor. James’ blue eyes stared wildly up at him, as they had the first time he’d stamped this claim on him, what felt like a lifetime ago, and Michael smiled again, letting James see everything inside him.

They fit perfectly together, and surely everyone could see that. The dance flowed through their bodies as smoothly and flawlessly as water over marble, and Michael revelled in it. He leaned close as James arched and flexed beneath him, letting the warmth of his breath drift over James’ exposed skin, but stopping short of letting his lips follow it. Not yet – that was private. No one else got to see that.

The music quietened, and James’ body curled around his, his face buried in the crook of Michael’s neck as they clung together, a moment of almost-stillness in the middle of the dance. Michael could feel James’ heart beating furiously against his chest and for a moment he let the rhythm of it lull him.

“ _Michael…_ ” The word was the barest whisper, a question that Michael wanted to answer, but he couldn’t. The music swelled again and moment was past. They danced again, and once more Michael could feel how fragile James felt beneath his hands. His grip could so easily bruise, he knew – hell, right now he felt like he could snap James in two like a twig.

Except that wasn’t what he wanted. Not what he wanted at all. He wanted James to bend. He wanted to watch James arch and flex and writhe for him, take everything that Michael could give him.

But the other dancers were returning. Edi and Lucas and Álex and their friends. Michael could see them as dim shadows towards the back of the stage, lurking, waiting. He snarled at them silently, and had the satisfaction of seeing one or two of them almost flinch away.

The violins turned sinister, menacing, and suddenly James was struggling in his grip, trying to get away. Michael held on tighter until, with no warning, Edi stepped forward and laid hold of him, dragging James away and glaring at Michael furiously.

The surprise loosened his grip just enough that James was gone, and he stepped forward, determined to take him back. But he found his way blocked by Lucas, looking almost as furious, and he stopped, confused, letting Lucas slide back into the dance while he could only watch, impotent and seething.

He lost sight of James more than once as the other dancers surrounded him, passing him between them, and it wasn’t until James appeared briefly in a gap between the surging bodies, his gaze desperately seeking out Michael, that he was galvanised into action again.

The music worked itself into a frenzied crescendo as he pushed through the crowd, both Jason and Caleb’s voices taking on a strained, desperate note as they strove for the climax. Michael broke through at just the right moment to lay hold of James as he passed in front of him, one arm going around his waist to hold him close, the other sliding across the front of James’ throat.

“Mine…” he growled in James’ ear, before his hands moved and James collapsed at his feet like a marionette with its strings cut.

If he couldn’t have James, then he’d be damned if anyone else could.

There was a moment of absolute silence as the last echoes of the violins died away, and then the tumultuous applause started at the same time as an icy deluge of something like horror broke over Michael.

He came back to himself all at once, his rage and jealousy deserting him as quickly as they’d arrived – was it really only a few short moments ago?

Numbly, he took his bows with the rest of the company, somehow contriving not to be next to James. He could feel James’ eyes on him the whole time, trying to catch his attention. And not just James’ – he could feel everyone else looking at him too, staring at him curiously, whispering amongst themselves as the crowd continued to applaud.

However he pretended not to notice any of them, and in the confusion of exiting the stage, he managed to hurry away and find a dark, hidden corner where he could attempt to catch his breath.

It was all over now. He’d betrayed himself and his feelings completely and totally. No one could have failed to work it out. And James…well, he wouldn’t be surprised if James never wanted Michael near him again. He’d been rough. More than rough – he’d been vicious, violent even, desperate to own something that wasn’t his. That never would be his, now.

Michael knew what he had to do. He’d go to Matthew now, tell him he wouldn’t dance the routine any more. They could find someone else to fill his place. It wasn’t as if he was irreplaceable. Not like James. The routine wouldn’t work without James.

And he knew he should do more than that. He should resign from the club. He’d be lucky if Matthew didn’t fire him anyway, after the way he’d behaved tonight. But he wasn’t sure he could go that far. He wasn’t sure he could actually leave, and never see James again if there was the slightest chance James didn’t hate him.

Not that he was holding out much hope of that.

“Michael.”

He started violently, and then looked round wildly to find James watching him from a few feet away.

Clearly his corner hadn’t been as dark or hidden as he’d thought. It was, however, dark enough that he couldn’t read the expression on James’ face properly. But he could still sense James’ determination. Determination to get some answers, Michael knew.

Well, he supposed James deserved that much.

“We need to talk,” James said, confirming Michael’s suspicions. His voice was flat but firm, devoid of anything that might hint at what James was feeling.

But Michael _knew_ what James was feeling. Angry. Shocked. Disgusted. Violated, even. He didn’t blame James in the slightest.

“Come on. I want somewhere private for this.”

Grateful that James wasn’t going air everything in public (not that there was much left to air, by this point), Michael mutely trailed James as he led the way back to their shared dressing room.

However, they only made it as far as the backstage corridor when Edi found them.

“Michael Fassbender, stop right there! You and I need to have _words_.”

“You’ll have to wait your turn, Edi,” James said, before Michael could answer. “I have some words of my own to say first.”

He still spoke calmly, but something in his face caused Edi to falter.

“All right.” Edi gave way. “Later, then.” Then he transferred his attention back to Michael. “But don’t even _think_ about leaving this club until you’ve seen me. I want to know what the _fuck_ is going on.”

Michael nodded. “Okay. Look, Edi, I’m sorry…”

“Michael.” James interrupted him. “Now, please.”

“Go,” Edi told him, still clearly pissed off, but equally clearly not willing to cross James. “I’ll see you later.”

Michael nodded again, and then followed James down the corridor and into their dressing room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with [art](http://mcfassy.livejournal.com/326152.html) by the wonderful Clarounette, who has captured the images in my head so well it's eerie! :D

“Shut the door, please.”

Michael complied with James’ quiet request, and abruptly found himself wishing that James would shout at him or something. Get angry, or even hit him, maybe. This unwavering calm was starting to unnerve him.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

James stood on the other side of the dressing room, as far as he could from Michael (which wasn’t very far, in the small space), and regarded him steadily as he asked his question.

“What? No.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t realise what was going on?”

 _I hoped you wouldn’t._ But Michael sensed that saying that would be unwise. So he kept quiet and just stared pleadingly at James.

“Because I didn’t, at first,” James continued, surprising him. “I actually believed you to start with, when you said you were improvising. ‘Caught up in the moment’ was the phrase you used, wasn’t it?”

“I was,” said Michael desperately. That was at least true, even if it was such a very small part of everything he’d been feeling.

“And although I didn’t work out exactly what was going on for quite a while – longer than it should have taken me, if I’m being truthful – eventually I did realise there was _something_. I don’t think anyone else noticed, but I was dancing with you. It was hard not to get suspicious. The way you looked at me, the way you touched me…I became more and more convinced that it wasn’t just the dance.”

“James, I’m sorry, I…”

“But I didn’t know for certain, not until tonight. There was always that little niggle that suggested that perhaps I was reading too much into things. That maybe you were just _that_ good at getting into a role. And I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. Then, tonight, well…” For the first time, James let something other than that blank stoicism cross his face – it might almost have been a smile. “You know. You were there, after all.”

Michael was struck dumb. He knew he should apologise again, try to explain himself, but he couldn’t think of any words that would be good enough.

“You want me, don’t you?” said James bluntly. “It’s not just the dance, not just a role. _You want me_. And you don’t want anyone else to have me. The way you danced tonight, the way you held me, _claimed_ me. It was obvious. To everyone, I think.”

“Oh god.” Michael dropped his face into his hands, miserably, and forced himself to say something, however inadequate. “What you must think of me. Sorry isn’t good enough, I know, but I _am_ sorry. I’m sorry I did that to you. And I’m sorry if I humiliated you – or hurt you…”

“I liked it.”

Michael froze for one heart-stopping minute, and then tentatively lifted his head so he could look at James. “What?”

James moved then, crossing the room right into Michael’s personal space until they were scant inches apart, and looked up at him out of hot, kohl-smudged, eyes. “I _really_ liked it.”

Completely unbidden, Michael’s hands dropped to grip James’ arms, and he felt red silk crumple under his touch. “But…but I was too rough. I shouldn’t have…”

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” James interrupted. “I said, I. Liked. It. A _lot_. I won’t deny I was a little startled at first. You’d always shown at least degree of restraint, before tonight. But by the end of the dance…” He dropped his gaze shyly. “By the end I was wishing that we weren’t on stage. That there was no audience. Only us. Only _you_.”

Michael’s grip tightened. “James, I…”

“But if you’re not going to do anything about it,” James expression turned from shy to sly in a heartbeat, “perhaps I need to go and find someone else to help me deal with everything I’m feeling right now. Maybe Lucas. Or Álex. Or…”

He broke off as Michael shook him – just a little, but enough to make him draw in his breath sharply.

“ _Shut up_ ,” Michael growled, barely recognising his own voice. He could feel his blood surging in his veins, and he had just time to register the widening of James’ eyes before he dragged James forward those final few inches and did what he’d been longing to do for days.

The kiss was like a brand, marking James as his. James’ lips parted beneath his instantly, and Michael plundered his mouth, taking everything that James gave freely.

James _gave_ – he never thought he’d have this, and now it was his.

“ _Mine_ ,” he breathed fiercely, wanting to erase the last shred of doubt.

“Yours,” James agreed. “ _Yours_. Oh god, _please_.”

He shifted his weight a little, and Michael suddenly realised that James was rocking against him minutely, pressing the proof of just how _much_ he’d liked Michael’s behaviour against the evidence of Michael’s own loss of control, which had crumbled into dust the minute he’d had James in his arms again.

The world went fuzzy around he edges at the same time as it seemed to spring into even sharper focus.

The expression on James’ face was shocked, and not a little confused, when Michael pushed him away suddenly.

“Michael, what…?”

Take your clothes off,” Michael instructed him, the words punctuated with a sharp click as he felt behind him and turned the lock on the dressing room door. James’ eyes darted down and then back up, and then he smiled as he started to peel his shirt from his shoulders, every slow movement a tease.

Michael watched for a moment, as more pale skin was revealed from underneath a shirt that hadn’t hidden much anyway. Then one stride carried him to James, and he shoved his hands under delicate silk. “Too slow,” he muttered, and pushed the shirt roughly down James’ arms.

“Careful,” James said breathlessly. “Jennifer will kill you if you damage the costumes.”

“James,” Michael said. “I don’t _care_ about the fucking costumes.” Then he proceeded to remove every scrap of fabric from James’ body until James was standing there naked, flushed, and undeniably wanting.

And he wasn’t the only one. Michael wanted too. He wanted to touch and taste every inch of that smooth skin, with his hands, his lips, and his teeth. He wanted to mark it, so that James would know he was Michael’s.

He only realised he was fumbling with the buttons of his waistcoat when James’ hands closed over his.

“Let me, please,” James said. “ _Please_ let me.”

So Michael stood still while James divested him of his costume almost as quickly as Michael had whisked him out of his, the quick sneaking touches of his hands on Michael’s skin making Michael want to grab him, bend him over the nearest surface and take him right there and then.

And he might even have done it, except that, having stripped Michael of the last of his clothing, James had instantly dropped to his knees, issuing no warning or request before he took Michael’s cock in his mouth.

A stream of curses escaped Michael, and he heard a pleased noise from James in response. Michael looked down at him, and nearly had to close his eyes against the sight of stretched red lips and blue eyes peeking up at him from under dark lashes.

Something dark, and almost primal, raced through him. He thought about sliding his hand into James’ hair and holding him in place while Michael fucked his mouth. He thought about pulling out at the last moment and painting James’ face with his release. And then he thought about nothing at all as a skilful tongue did things to him that filled his brain with white noise.

The raw surge of possessiveness that accompanied a second look down at James was what made him put a stop to it, strangely enough. It reminded him that he had other plans for James right now, although he filed away the idea of having James on his knees until he’d made Michael come for another time.

However, he gave in at least partially to one of his impulses, and threaded his right hand into James’ hair, pulling his head back until his mouth slid off Michael’s cock with a faintly obscene noise.

“Up,” he said, accompanying the word with a little tug, and James rose to his feet, his mouth a red, wet pout that Michael just had to lean in and kiss. “Do you know what I’m going to do now?” he murmured in a low voice.

“What?” asked James, the rapidity of his answer betraying that he didn’t care what Michael did, so long as he did it quickly.

“I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you until you ache. I’m going to fuck you until you know you’re mine.”

“Yes…” James whispered. “God, _yes_ …”

Michael smiled at him then – a feral expression with far to many teeth, but one that just made James’ breath hitch and the flush of colour on his cheekbones deepen.

“Wait there,” he instructed, and quickly collected the necessary supplies from the shelf by his mirror and from the pocket of his jacket, slung over the back of a chair.  
Then he returned to James and curled one of his hands around James’ wrist, pulling him as he walked backwards towards the couch that was shoved against one wall, and which Michael was extremely grateful for right now, for all it took up valuable space in the small dressing room.

He dropped the pot of lotion and condom amongst the cushions as he folded himself down on to the couch, and James instantly climbed on top of him, settling in his lap with his knees either side of Michael’s thighs and his hands on Michael’s shoulders. The position pressed them together again, the friction in certain areas a pleasant hum of sensation through Michael’s body.

James looked down at him, waiting. His hair was falling in his eyes, and the dark make-up that outlined them was well and truly smudged beyond repair. He looked wrecked already, and Michael hadn’t even _begun_ yet.

“You beautiful, James, you know that?” Michael said. “Is it any wonder I can’t keep my hands off you?”

James ducked his head shyly, obviously disagreeing with Michael’s assessment, and Michael put a finger under his chin, forcing him to look up again. “I bet half the audience wanted you tonight,” he continued. “But they can’t have you. Do you know why?”

“Because I’m yours.” No uncertainty coloured James’ voice.

“Because you’re mine,” Michael affirmed.

He slid his hands up James’ thighs, past his hips, and on up James’ torso, his thumbs picking out James’ ribs one by one before he curved them inwards to rub across James’ nipples.

James let out a faint moan, and his eyes fluttered closed momentarily.

“Hmmm…” mused Michael, considering, and then without warning pinched a nipple between his finger and thumb.

That elicited a sharp gasp and jerk of James’ body. “Oh…”

“You like that, don’t you? But then, you’d probably like anything I did to you.”

James nodded frantically, and then jerked again as Michael pinched his other nipple. The movement slid their cocks together, and this time James wasn’t the only one who moaned.

“Oh god, fuck me, _please_ ,” James demanded breathlessly, and Michael thought about pointing out that he was the one in charge here, that James didn’t get to make any kind of demand.

But he _wanted_ to fuck James, so badly he was practically shaking with it, and he couldn’t bring himself to make either of them wait any longer.

He curled one hand around the back of James’ neck, and jerked him down for a deep, messy kiss, the other hand reaching out blindly for the small pot, and fumbling the lid off.

James keened in the back of his throat when a slick finger pressed against him, sliding and rubbing against sensitive skin before pushing into him.

“Yes, yes…there… _more_ …”

The way James writhed in his lap and pushed eagerly backwards made Michael want to skip the rest of the preparation and fuck James right now. But despite the possessive fire raging in him, the desperate need to make James his, completely and utterly, he didn’t actually want to _hurt_ James. Never that. He wanted to hear James scream for him, but not from pain.

So he ignored James’ demands, and pushed the finger deeper, until he found the spot that made James abruptly go completely still, and then _shudder_ as a choked-off sound found it’s way out of his mouth.

Michael grinned his gleeful, feral grin, and caressed the spot again, over and over until James was practically collapsed into his arms, whimpering helplessly, his cock leaking sticky fluid that smeared over both their skin.

The second finger met no resistance at all, and Michael had to kiss James again for that. “You’re so good, James,” he whispered. “Feel you opening up for me. You want this so much, don’t you?”

A gasped moan was his only response.

“I wish I could see,” he continued. “I wish I could see how easily you take my fingers. Next time I’m going to watch. I’m going to watch how easily you open for me.” He kissed James’ pliant mouth again. “Or maybe I’ll make you do it yourself. Maybe I’ll watch as you open yourself up, fuck yourself on your own fingers.”

“ _Please_ …”

The plea was nothing more than a breath against Michael’s skin, but the desperation, the _want_ in it found its way into Michael’s blood and his head.

“All right,” he said. “All right…”

He pulled his fingers free, and then tore the condom packet open. Then he held the contents out to James.

“Put this on me,” he said, pushing James backwards with a hand on his chest so he could look into James’ dazed eyes.

James blinked a couple of times, as if coming out of a trance, and then took the condom with a small smile.

Michael knew that James was taking advantage as his fingers slid down Michael’s cock. But the touch felt so good – good enough that any reprimand died in his throat. But still, he had to put a stop to it, however reluctantly.

“James,” he said, his voice hoarse and a little shaky all of a sudden. “James, you’d better stop that if you want anything else tonight.”

It was almost funny, how fast James removed his hands. He stared at Michael out of wide, wild eyes. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right. But I need you to lift yourself up now. Can you do that?”

Again, James’ nod was almost comically quick, and he lifted himself easily as Michael shuffled down the couch a little into a better position.

James moaned, a spectacularly wanton sound, as he lowered himself again slowly and the head of Michael’s pushed against him. Then, as it breached him, his eyes snapped to Michael’s face, hot blue finding Michael’s gaze unerringly as he took Michael in, in one smooth slide.

Michael felt his mouth dropping open. James was hot and tight and fucking _perfect_ , and it took every shred of willpower he had not to come right there and then, and let days of pent up frustration explode inside of James.

But no. He’d told James he was going to fuck him until he knew who he belonged to, and he was damn well going to make good on that promise. So he clawed himself back from the brink, and then took a deep breath as he settled his hands on James’ hips, holding him in place.

James was still watching him, shifting slightly under Michael’s hands, small twitches of movement that betrayed him and his desire to break out of Michael’s grasp and fuck himself on Michael’s cock.

Teasingly, Michael loosened his grip a little, enough so that the twitches became a gentle rocking as James rode him, giving him a semblance of control.

He let James believe it for a moment and then, with no warning, snapped his hips up, thrusting deep and hard, drawing a shocked gasp from James’ throat.

“Mine, James,” he reminded him, tightening his hold again. “ _Mine_.”

He thrust upwards again, and James moaned, throwing his head back so that his neck and spine made a perfect arch. As in the dance, Michael lifted one of his hands and trailed it down James’ torso, dragging his fingernails against James’ skin hard enough to leave a series of parallel red marks.

Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the marks, tasting James’ skin as he’d wanted to on the stage, his hand dropping low enough to curl around James’ cock. James keened and his body curled forwards again, his spine curving the other way as he gripped the back of the couch and pressed his forehead to Michael’s shoulder, breathing harshly.

“Michael, _Michael_ …”

James was utterly pliant in Michael’s arms now, seemingly only able to hang on tightly as Michael used him, fucking him ruthlessly. He didn’t even have the presence of mind to put his own hand to his cock, Michael having relinquished his hold in order to hold James steady by the hips as he thrust.

“Can you come like this, James?” Michael asked in a whisper. “From nothing more than my cock in you?”

“I…”

“Let me put it another way. You _will_ come like this. _From_ this, and nothing else.”

There was a movement against his shoulder that might have been a nod, but might also have been a mindless shudder.

But it wasn’t until Michael stopped moving, completely and totally, that James lifted his head again, in confusion and desperation. “What? No, don’t _stop_.” Then his expression faltered at the look Michael gave him.

“Who’s in charge here, James?”

The look in James’ eyes was enough of an answer.

“Me,” Michael confirmed. Quick as a flash, he pulled James into a kiss, hard and dirty and deep, and then in a flurry of movement twisted and tipped James on to his back on the couch. His cock slipped free as he did so, and James whimpered at the sudden emptiness.

But he wasn’t empty for long. Following with his own body, Michael lifted one of James’ legs to hook it over his shoulder, pressed the other one outwards, and then drove back in again. James’ mouth opened in a soundless scream, and stayed open as he gasped through every one of Michael’s thrusts, the angle stimulating his prostate mercilessly.

Michael could feel his orgasm pooling at the base of his spine again, the Herculean effort he’d exerted to keep it at bay thus far finally wearing thin at the sight of James’ beneath him, writhing and arching as Michael fucked him.

He was determined to make James come, though. He would have that first.

“James,” he commanded hoarsely. “James, look at me.”

Helpless to do anything but obey, James opened eyes that had been screwed tightly shut and looked at him. Blue was almost entirely swamped by black, and his gaze was almost mindless.

“Do you want to come, James?”

James nodded, frantically. “Yes! So _close_ …”

“So do it. Come for me now.”

Two more thrusts was all it took, and then James was gasping out his orgasm, milky fluid covering his stomach and Michael’s hand, where he hadn’t been able to resist taking hold of James’ cock at the last moment, wanting to feel James’ climax every way he could.

His own orgasm was like a firework going off behind his eyes, the explosion that he’d staved off earlier making his vision go fuzzy around the edges as he groaned through gritted teeth.

And then after that there was only the sound of panting, quiet and completely in unison.

*~*~*~*~*

“James?” Michael asked softly. “Are you all right?”

James stirred, stretching like a cat, his body pressing against Michael’s in ways that felt very pleasant indeed. Certain portions of Michael’s anatomy twitched valiantly, and then reluctantly subsided.

They were lying on the couch, which was really neither long enough nor wide enough to contain two fully-grown men, but somehow they were managing it. And despite the discomfort, Michael couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be right at this moment.

In the aftermath, he had pulled out of James as carefully as he could, alert for any flinch or hint of pain. But James had merely smiled up at him lazily, and then turned on his side enough that Michael could slot himself between him and the back of couch, looping one arm round James waist to hold him close.

Then for a while they’d both just concentrated on breathing.

“James…?” he asked again.

“I think I’m a bit more than all right,” James replied, a smile in his voice.

“Are you sure? I’m…”

“If you even think about uttering the word ‘sorry’, I’m getting up and walking out of here right now.”

Michael paused, and then said, “Without any clothes on?”

James snorted with laughter. “You may have a point.”

“Because I don’t think I can allow that. Only I get to see you like this, I’ve decided.” Michael ran the hand that had been resting against James’ stomach up and over his hip, and then on down his thigh, until James’ hand chased it and brought it back, lacing their fingers together.

“That’s more like it,” James said. “You told me I was yours, and I really hope you’re not having second thoughts about that now. Because I think we’ve just established I am yours. Very much so.”

Michael felt a shiver go through him at James’ words, one that chased away the panicked doubts that had been in danger of taking root. For a moment he’d wondered if he’d gone too far, but now he knew he hadn’t.

James was his.

He tightened his grip on James’ fingers, and felt James return the pressure. For a moment they just lay there – Michael let his mind drift pleasantly, until abruptly it snagged on a memory.

“You tried to tell me, didn’t you?” he said.

“What?”

“Before the dance, earlier. Before we went on stage. You were going to tell me you wanted this too.”

“I…well, maybe.”

“Not the best timing in the world, James.”

“I suppose not. I guess I just wanted you to know that we were on the same page, and that I was with you every step of the way during the dance. Not that you really seemed all that bothered whether I was with you or not,” James added, sounding amused.

Another trickle of remorse slithered through, Michael, despite himself. No matter what James said, he couldn’t really be proud of himself for the way he’d acted, at least not up on the stage.

“I should have said something earlier myself,” he decided out loud. “It wasn’t fair to you to treat you that way.”

“Perhaps,” James allowed. Then, after a moment, “Although it was extremely attractive. To me, anyway. I could barely keep control of myself out there, and I have no idea how you managed. I was convinced you were just going to fling me down and have your wicked way with me at any moment!”

Michael groaned, and buried his face in the back of James’ neck. “It was really that obvious, wasn’t it,” he muttered despairingly.

James laughed. “Afraid so.”

“James…?” Something else had just occurred to Michael, something that he realised he had to say.

“Yes?”

Michael took a deep breath. “You do know that this isn’t just about…this, right?” He made some kind of vague gesture over their naked bodies that half second later he realised James might not have been able to see.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, I’m afraid,” James said, confirming it.

“It’s not just about…what we just did. The sex,” Michael clarified. “Not for me, anyway. I mean, I do want you that way, but I want you in…other ways, as well,” he finished lamely.

“You mean you want me for my mind as well as my body.”

“And your heart, too,” Michael said, and then cringed a little at the corniness of his words.

“I know,” James said quietly. Then his grip on Michael’s hand tightened further, if that were possible. “Me too. I want you for all those reasons too.”

“Oh, thank god for that,” Michael breathed involuntarily, making James laugh again. Then he tilted his head so he could press an almost chaste kiss against the side of James’ neck. “Thank god,” he murmured again.

The sudden banging on the door rather effectively ruined the moment, as did Edi’s muffled voice yelling through the wood.

“Okay, you’ve had long enough. Get out here right now, Michael!”

Michael was suddenly intensely glad he’d locked the door. He didn’t think their current somewhat compromising position would give Edi even the slightest pause, the mood he seemed to be in right now.

“Uh oh, I think someone’s in trouble,” James murmured.

“Maybe if we just keep quiet he’ll just go away,” Michael whispered back.

“ _Now_ , Fassbender. Or so help me, I’ll kick this door down.”

“Not a chance,” James decided, and then, much to Michael’s dismay, uncurled himself and sat up. “Just a minute,” he called, ending any remaining hope Michael might have had of them staying undetected. “He’ll be right out.”

“Traitor,” Michael muttered, sitting up likewise.

“You might as well face the music now,” James told him, tossing over a shirt. Then he smiled impishly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to tell him exactly how much I liked it, and that it’s not a problem at all.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Michael said, feeling his blood run hot for a moment.

Then Edi banged on the door again, and he had to shelve any plans he might have had of reminding James of his place in favour of pulling on a pair of jeans so he looked at least marginally respectable when he let Edi into the room.

Edi was in full flow before he’d even crossed the threshold, and Michael braced himself, knowing he had to just endure it. He did deserve it, after all. But in the midst of all yelling he let his eyes slide past Edi for just a moment, to rest on James. And when James mouthed the word “Yours” at him, he knew that it had all been worth it.

*~*~*~*~*

_Epilogue: One month later…_

“Did you see Edi and Lucas earlier?” James asked, as Michael unlocked the front door and let them into the hallway. “I think something might have finally happened there.”

“Really? Don’t tell me Lucas actually plucked up the courage to tell Edi how he feels.”

“What, like you did with me, you mean?” James grinned slyly, and Michael rolled his eyes and gave him a little shove to propel him inside.

“Very funny. Are you ever going to let me live this down?”

James pretended to think. “Nope,” he proclaimed eventually. “Not that I’m complaining about the way I found out, mind you. You know that.”

Michael let the front door swing shut behind them, and then crowded James backwards against the door of his flat. “I’m very well aware,” he said, before leaning in to kiss James’ smiling mouth, feeling James squirm against him happily as he held him in place with his body.

Someone cleared their throat behind them.

Michael jumped, startled, and then turned to face Kevin, who looked like he was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

“Not interrupting anything, am I?” Kevin said, but then continued without waiting for an answer. “I was just on my way out, but then I heard you and thought I’d give you this.” He tossed an envelope to Michael. “More of your post got mixed in with mine, sorry.”

“Thank you,” Michael replied, and then paused significantly, hoping Kevin would take the hint and carry on out the door.

Of course, that was the moment James chose to peer around Michael and announce his presence. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Kevin said. Then he smirked, obviously recognising James. “You’re Michael’s colleague, aren’t you. He’s mentioned you before.”

James slipped out from between Michael and the door before Michael could stop him, and stuck out a hand. “James McAvoy. Nice to meet you. And I suppose you could say Michael and I are colleagues, in a manor of speaking.”

“We _do_ work together, James,” Michael pointed out, knowing there was no way to salvage this situation, but determined to try anyway. “It’s not an inaccurate description.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Kevin said, his smirk widening as he shook James’ hand. “Nice to meet you to, James.”

“Didn’t you say you were on your way out?” Michael said, suddenly unable to drag his eyes away from James and Kevin’s clasped hands.

“I did indeed. And I better get a move on, otherwise I’ll be late.”

“Bye, then.”

“Bye,” Kevin echoed, giving Michael a knowing look. “And bye, James. I’ll be seeing you, I’m sure.”

The opening and shutting of the front door sounded loud in the silence that accompanied Kevin’s departure. Michael found himself glaring, narrow-eyed, at James, his heart thudding in his chest.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, in a low voice.

“What?” James frowned in confusion.

“ _James McAvoy. Nice to meet you_ ,” Michael mimicked. He reached out and grabbed the same hand Kevin had shaken, dragging James close again.

James looked up at him for a moment, and then dropped his gaze demurely. “Well, I did tell you that I was brought up to be polite to new acquaintances.”

“Especially ones you’re going to be getting up close and personal with,” Michael added, remembering vividly the day James had introduced himself to him. “Which does _not_ include my neighbours.” He tightened his grip on James fractionally, and had the satisfaction of hearing James’ breath hitch.

“A fact that I think you could do with reminding of.” Michael unlocked the door to his flat one-handed, and then backed James inside. “On your knees, perhaps?”

James’ lips parted slightly, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick them.

“Do you like that idea?”

“Yes. Very much.” Then James looked up at him again. “I wouldn’t want to get up close and personal with any of your neighbours, you know that, don’t you?” he said, suddenly serious. “Only you.”

Michael kissed him. “I do,” he said. “I do know that.” He smiled slightly. “But maybe you’d still like to prove it to me?”

James licked his lips again. “I would,” he said, and then let Michael pull him into the bedroom, so he could do just that.

Sometime later, Michael said, very softly, “Mine.” He heard an answering whisper in response.

“Yours.”


End file.
